#maybe his stages just didn’t stand out enough?? like he was good but the stages as a whole weren’t super popular or talked about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alvojake · 4 months

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Six Feet Under | P.SH

「paring」 : ceo!sunghoon x stripper!fem!reader 「word count」 : 3.5k

「synopsis」 : even a busy ceo needs a well-deserved break to release some pent-up frustration and you just so happen to be that escape he finds himself returning to. he was married and you swore you'd never fall in love again, however, what happens when you find yourself wanting more?

「genre」 : smut, angst, forbidden romance

「warning」 : cheating (I do NOT condone cheating irl, this is for the sake of the story!), making out, pet names (baby, princess, kitten, good girl, also slut is used), unprotected sex (big no-no, wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral (m. receiving), cursing, mirror sex, teasing, mentions of breeding, creampie, choking, hair pulling, begging, hoon spanks the reader like once, public sex(?), lmk if I missed anything!

All you wanted in your life was to live a life of luxury, surrounded by pretty things. So much money that you live the rest of your life in peace with a fancy glass of champagne. A little life without having to deal with someone else, without commitment, without love.

However, nothing in life came for free and you of course had to work for it. Just like any other normal Friday night here you were in a tiny two-piece that left very little to the imagination and heels that were ungodly tall. Twirling around the pole effortlessly, money pooling on the ground underneath you. The catcalls and provocative remarks weren’t anything new to you if anything they spurred you on more.

Just then you caught sight of a familiar face, sitting at the bar that trailed the length of the stage. His eyes watching you from over the rim of his glass, studying your every move. Sunghoon wasn’t a stranger to you, far from it actually.

Sunghoon was always here Friday nights, maybe Saturday if he could sneak out without raising too many questions. He was a busy man, running a well-known company wasn’t for the weak. This also meant that he pent up frustration from the earlier days of the week he needed to get out so where did he find himself? At the most popular strip club in all of Korea, watching the very dancer that has held him captive since the beginning.

Landing on your feet with a satisfying click of your heels you walked around the pole, your hand still tightly wrapped around the metal. Stopping in front of the black-haired male with a smirk, dropping to your knees you rolled hips forward, your hand in your hair gaining some hollars from the other drunk men around you.

While many others had their gaze set on you, your gaze was solely on the man in front of you. Sunghoon’s eyes never left your figure as you crawled in his direction, giving him a better view down the skimpy top that hung loosely on your body.

“Hey, kitten give us another show, yeah?” A man that was standing next to Sunghoon reached forward tucking a wad of cash in the band of your bottoms before giving your thigh a small tap.

You leaned down on your forearms, giving him a wide smile and a wink before turning your gaze back to Sunghoon. Watching his chocolate brown eyes darken, his knuckles white as he gripped his glass a little too tight.

The look he was giving you was already enough to have heat pooling in your gut.

Crawling forward, you reach forward tracing your manicured fingers along his jaw feeling the muscles tense under your touch. This wasn’t completely out of the norm for you so it didn’t raise any suspicion from those around you. However, you got a few jealous remarks as you leaned closer to Sunghoon, your fingers trailing down his neck right over his pulse point. You could feel his rapid heartbeat under your fingertips as your lips brushed his ear. Saying a simple ‘you know where to find me.’ before moving away just as the music faded, ending your performance.

Finding you was exactly what Sunghoon did, finding you sitting in front of your vanity in your dressing room. Your eyes flickered up to meet his dark ones through the mirror as the door clicked shut.

“Took you long enough.” Your words were more teasing than annoyed, however, the taller male didn’t say a word. Looking at you through the mirror with a hard-to-read expression.

Seeing as you weren’t going to get a response you let out a huff before grabbing your hair brush to untangle your silky strands. Your eyes trained on your reflection as you repeated the same cycle of pulling your hair through the thin bristles.

Until movement caught your eye, Sunghoon moved to stand behind you as you sat the hairbrush down. His slim fingers then traced along your jaw much like you had done to him just an hour ago. They were cold against your burning skin, leaving a chill to go down your spine.

Light gleaming off of the metal band that hugged his ring finger reminded you that the man behind you, the man who has fucked you senseless multiple times in this very room wasn’t a single man.

“What about your wife? Won’t she be wondering where her husband is so late?” You smirked at Sunghoon through the mirror.

His hand was quick to grab your face, squishing your cheeks tightly and you let out a surprised yelp.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep her out of your mouth?” Sunghoon’s breath fanned over your ear, “or do I have to remind you what happened last time?”

Your throat went dry as the memories of him denying you release so many times flashed through your mind. Looking over you met his dark eyes, but no words left your tongue.

“Cat got your tongue princess?” The deep tone of his voice had you squeezing your thighs together, which of course didn’t go unnoticed by the dark-haired male.

His grip on your face loosened as he softly caressed your jaw, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. As if instinct took over you let your mouth fall open allowing him to insert the digit into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

You closed your lips, encasing his finger in your warm heat while he watched you with an intense gaze. Sucking softly, tongue swirling, drenching his digit in your saliva, eyes never leaving his.

“On your knees,” Sunghoon demanded, pulling his hand away from your face, and motioning to the ground. You obey, sitting on your knees on the cool faux wood ground, an ache already starting to form in your joints. But that would be a problem for future you to deal with.

Looking up you were met with Sunghoon’s blown-out pupils, the same cold expression on his face. However, there was a tinge of annoyance because of how slow you were going.

Reaching down he ran his fingers through your hair and you relished in the feeling of his nails softly scraping your scalp. Until he grabbed a fist full of your hair, tugging harshly causing a whine to leave your lips. He leaned down, his breath fanning your face, a dark look in his eyes that was enough to tell you that you were in for a long night.

“You know what to do, so-” He tugged on your hair again eliciting a whimper from your lips, “Do. It.”

Letting go of your hair he stood straight on his feet once more, watching as you hastily reached for his belt. Pulling it loose you let his slacks fall, pooling at his ankles and leaving him in his boxers. You ghosted your fingers over his bulge that was pressing against the fabric, “aw how long have you been like this?” You teased, but the dark spot was evidence enough that he had been like this for some time.

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched as you continued to tease him through his underwear. Opening his mouth to tell you to get on with it but he was cut off as a choked groan tore through his throat, your fingers squeezing him through the fabric. The sound alone was enough to have your core throbbing, and your underwear becoming uncomfortably sticky.

Looking up only added to the burning in your stomach, his bottom lip was trapped in his teeth, his eyes hooded watching your every move. You didn’t want to wait any longer to have a taste of him again, it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t addicted to him. Something about fucking around in secret excited you even more, though you did feel kinda bad for his wife.

The sound of your name falling from his lip in such a surly tone was enough to snap you out of your daze. Raising higher on your knees you grabbed the hem of his button-up shirt, pushing it up revealing his toned abdomen. Pressing feather-like kisses over the skin, trailing along the waistband of his underwear. Listening to the hushed curses that would fall from his lips gives you the confidence to press a firm kiss right on his v-line.

Feeling his muscles contract under your skin spurred you on, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses along his abdomen. Stopping right under his belly button, nipping at the skin softly, his hand falling softly on your head.

“No marks.” He groaned as you nipped a bit harder at the skin. Oh how badly you wanted to mark his perfect porcelain skin, but you knew better than to disobey. Pulling away you let his shirt fall back down, hooking your fingers in the band of his underwear. Tugging them down, you let the fabric join his pants on the ground.

You take him in one hand, pressing a thumb against his leaking tip resulting in a low groan to tear through his lips. Spitting in your palm you replace your other hand, rubbing up and down his shaft. Your saliva and his precum allow your movements to become fluid. His hand gripped the back of your vanity chair, knuckles turning white. You bring your head closer and lick a stripe up his cock, eyes flickering up watching as his head falls back soft moan-like sighs leaving his lips. Swirling your tongue around his tip, the taste of precum tingled in your mouth causing you to hum softly, making the volume of his moans increase. “Fuck princess, stop- fuck, stop teasing.”

Releasing his vice-like grip on the chair, Sunghoon gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Looking down he’s met with your lust-filled gaze, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight. Your face was painted a beautiful shade of red and your pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper, his hold on your hair tightening as his hips buck forward into your throat, making you gag at the sudden intrusion.

“Hmm fuck baby,” He hums as he thrusts his hips forward once again shivering at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. You focus your breathing through your nose, allowing him to take charge. His head falls back again, his pace picking up causing tears to prick in the corner of your eyes, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs.

“Why talk about my wife, when- fuck, when you can just suck my cock like the little slut you are.” He growls, picking up his pace once more taking the air right out of your lungs as you hum around him. Your thighs and knees burning in protest from sitting in the same position for so long, but the sight of him getting lost in the feeling of your throat was enough for you to want to endure it.

“Shit…” Sunghoon suddenly pulled out of your mouth, afraid that he’d cum then and there. Tugging on your hair, enough for a whine to fall from your swollen lips. “Get up.” his raspy tone instantly had you swooning as you scrambled back to your feet. He kicked his pants and underwear off his ankles. Latching his lips to yours, he groaned at the taste of himself on your tongue. He pushes you back until your lower back hits the vanity behind you, lips trailing down your neck as he picks you up, setting you on the surface.

Your fingers comb through his hair as he sucks on the hot skin of your neck, his canines scraping across your pulse point have a shiver going down your spine. He could feel your heart rate accelerate under his lips as he colored your skin in shades of reds and purples.

“Hoon, wait- fuck!” You exclaim as he bites down on the junction of your shoulder and neck, the stinging makes your head spin.

“You’re mine.” He growled against your skin, fingers undoing your robe. You both know that wasn’t true, you would never truly be his, he was married and you’d rather be buried six feet under before committing to a serious relationship. But just for the night, you’d pretend.

“My little slut to ruin.” His lips latched back on yours in a fervent kiss, teeth clashing, drool seeping from the corner of your lips. Your finger worked in a rush to undo his white button-up, desperate to feel his skin on you. Once the shirt was undone you ran your fingers down his torso, nails scraping his skin softly.

His lips never left your skin as he pushed the robe off of your shoulders, letting it lay on the table behind you, fingers tracing the lace fabric of the underwear set you had changed into. A low groan fell from his lips as he leaned down by your ear, “You’re fucking insatiable.”

You whine as he squeezed one of your boobs, harshly before letting his fingers trailed down, parting your thighs further. He pulled away to watch as your eyes pleaded with him to touch you.

“Hoon, please.” You squirm under his touch as his finger brushes over your core.

“Please what princess?” He smirked, enjoying the way your eyebrows scrunched together in desperation, your fingers wrapped loosely around his forearm while the other gripped the table underneath you.

“Touch me please,” A soft moan slipped past your lips as he ghosted over your clothed clit before whining when he took his hand back to your thigh.

“But I am touching you.” Frustration bubbled in your chest as you gazed up at him, the want to smack that smirk off his face was strong, but not as strong as the want of his fingers in you. “You mean like this?” He traced the area right before where you really wanted him, you whined, grip tightening on his arm.

“God dammit Sunghoon, just fuck me with your fingers please!” You exclaim and before you could even blink his other hand wrapped around your throat, limiting your oxygen supply.

“You better watch your fucking tone princess.” His lips ghost over your own as his other hand moves to cup your heat making you let out a choked moan. His fingers press against your clothed cunt feeling you soak your underwear further, “you’re so wet baby, fuck.”

The lack of proper oxygen and his teasing touch was making your head spin. Sunghoon kissed you deeply as he moved your underwear to the side, feeling your warm and slick folds. You whimper against his lips as his thumb finds your clit, circling it sharply.

“Only I can make you this wet, not those other assholes out there, me.” He growled as he inserted his finger into you and you cried out, back arching and nails digging into his skin. Your head was spinning, everything becoming overwhelming. He let go of your neck allowing you to breathe properly before finding purchase on your hip as he worked his finger in and out of you.

“Fuck… Hoon,” Moans fell from your lips as he pushed another finger into your sopping pussy, picking up his pace. Your head falls back in pure bliss allowing Sunghoon to latch his lips to your neck once more.

Sunghoon relished in your scent and the way you wrapped around his fingers so perfectly knowing that he would have to stop soon, his dick painfully hard and he wanted to be in you. Tilting your head back up you cupped his face with your free hand, bringing his attention to your already fucked out expression.

“Hoon-” You were cut off as his fingers brushed over your sweet spot causing a loud moan to tear through your lips. He smirked devilishly as he kissed the corner of your lips.

“What were you saying, baby?” He teased as he abused your sweet spot, pulling you closer and closer to your release.

“Please, Hoon, I need you, so bad.” You were growing too impatient and quite frankly so was he.

“Need my cock princess?” He teased, watching as you nodded your head furiously, lips caught between your teeth. Pulling his drenched fingers out of your pussy making you whine softly before he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you to your feet.

Your legs felt like jelly and if Sunghoon hadn’t been holding on to you, you surely would have fallen to your knees. Before you could even process it Sunghoon had you turned around and bent over the surface of the vanity.

“Now be a good girl and watch as I fuck you.” His finger trailed up the back of your thigh before grabbing a handful of your ass. You hummed loving the feeling of his warm skin on you, eyes fluttering shut.

A cry left your lips, eyes snapping open at the sudden sting on your asscheek. “What did I say, princess?” Sunghoon rubbed the red skin with his thumb, eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

Pushing your underwear to the side once more, lining his cock up with your entrance, eyes never leaving yours even as he slid in with a sudden thrust. A loud cry was torn from your lungs, head fell down at the sudden feeling.

Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up and making you look in the mirror. He didn’t give you a chance to fully adjust before he started thrusting his hips at a fast pace, grip tight on both your hair and hip. The movement had your eyes rolling as broken moans fell from your lips.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock like the slut you are.” Sunghoon chuckles, ramming his hips into yours, driving his cock deeper into your pussy eliciting moans from you.

“H…hoon.” You whine out, reaching behind you, nails digging into the skin of his hip. He hissed before releasing your hip, grabbing your wrist instead. Pulling until your back arched and a pornographic moan left your mouth.

Tears blurred your vision as you tried your hardest to keep looking in the mirror like he told you to, but the pleasure was just becoming too much. Letting your head hang, you whimper as Sunghoon pulls your head right back up.

“Am I fucking you that good that you can’t even listen?” He mocks with a smug smirk, hand leaving your hair to wrap around your neck, pulling your body flush against his as he keeps up with the animalistic pace. A gasp escapes your parted lips at the change, almost doubling over when the head of his cock brushes over your sweet spot.

“‘S too deep-'' Another cry cuts you off as Sunghoon’s fingers find your clit, abusing the small bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, falling back on his shoulder.

“Fuck- you’re squeezing my dick so tight.” He groaned, feeling his climax creeping up, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if you don’t cum before him. Picking up the pace of his fingers on your clit had you crying out again.

“Hoon-””Don’t worry princess, I’ll fill your sweet pussy so good, knock you up maybe so everyone knows your mine.” His words didn’t register in your foggy mind, your ears ringing as you felt so close.

With one final thrust of his hips, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, soaking his cock that still pounded into your abused hole. He groaned as you tightened around him like a vice, his orgasm right there.

“Too much…” You whined, grabbing his hand that had left your clit, now on your hip.

“Just a bit more, I’m almost there.” His once deep and husky voice came out almost whiney as he continued to thrust harshly, throwing you into overstimulation. “I’mma fill you to the brim,” He bit down on your shoulder and you clamped down on him, tipping him over the edge. A loud groan leaves his lips as he pumps his hot, thick cum into you, filling you to the brim just as he promised.

His hips slowed to a stop and he released your throat, wrapping his arms around your body encasing you in his warmth. The room was filled with heavy breathing as you both came down from your highs. Sunghoon whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you held onto his forearm.

You wished you could stay like this forever, in his warmth, his scent, his touch, his taste, stuffed by him, but…

Your thoughts were cut off as a shrilling ringing filled the room, reminding you that this was the end. It was probably a good thing because again he was married and you’d rather be caught dead before falling in love again. Yet here you are hoping for just a few more minutes with him.

He really was going to have you six feet under.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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luveline · 23 days

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Hi I love you coworker! James series feel free to ignore if you don’t like this idea but what if Remus convinced reader to go to a karaoke bar with them and she gets a little tipsy and signs her heart out and James is just heart eyes over it

thanks for requesting <3 fem!reader

“What is that?” James asks, genuinely scornful as he points at you where you’re leaning on the bar. “Is that another margarita? Jesus Christ.”

“You should be enjoying this.” Sirius smiles around the lip of his beer.

“Why would I enjoy this?”

“She’s coming out of her shell, isn’t she? You’re always calling her a priss.”

“She is a priss, but binge drinking isn’t the same as extroversion.”

Sirius taps their beers together. “And what are you doing tonight, James?”

James scowls as you collect your new drink. You’ve had four or five by now and they’ve more than started to affect you, your giggling endless, your hand wrapped around the crook of Remus’ arm for balance.

“Remus! It’s your turn, hun, get up here!” your general manager calls from the stage, a mic in her hand.

“Me!” you shout suddenly, to James’ shock and Sirius’ bright laughter. “Remus, please let me have your turn, please! I know exactly what song I want to sing.”

Remus, who’d convinced you to come through a lot of pleading and a promise that you won’t have to sing at all if you weren’t ready, looks at you like you’ve grown horns. “Are you sure?”

“Yes? Can I please?”

You take his arm into your hand and you look at him with widened eyes, thumb rubbing a line that James zeroes in on, doesn’t mean to, can’t believe he’s noticed at all. He’s irked you’d even look at Remus that way.

Because you’re annoying. Yes. Very annoying.

You drink a good half of your Margarita and ask Remus to hold it for you before you take the steps onto the stage and chat with your general manager about what song you want to sing. You put your hands on the mic stand and prepare yourself with eyebrows pinched together, determined, even though you look a little shaky at the same time. Sirius nudges James from behind, the two of them joining Remus in the small crowd of your coworkers as the music starts.

There are two screens for lyrics. A huge one for you, a smaller for everyone else beside you. You clutch the mic and stare resolutely at the bigger one as the melody becomes recognisable. James watches in what he thought would be smugness, but instead lays somewhere between awe and mild horror as you begin to sing.

The song is Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Big Head Todd & The Monsters. James loves this song, he sings it every time he has to drive Remus to cornwall. He knows every word back to front and he likes how you seem to like it too, even if you’re butchering it, and the drunken slur to your words is ridiculous. You know the chorus well enough and sing it with a beaming smile. James maybe doesn’t like you, but it’s hard not to smile when someone else is happy like that.

“Don’t make fun of her, James! Please don’t, she’s trying her best,” Remus says at his smiling. “And she won’t come again.”

“I’m not,” he says, not bothering to look away from you.

Your eyes scan faces and get caught on his. He can feel the moment you realise he’s watching too, see your slight falter, and then, magically, your excitement. “James! It’s Brandy! You love this song!”

Sirius snickers at his expression. “Mate,” he says quietly, “I thought you didn’t like her?”

“I don’t.”

You stumble a little where you’re standing and James has to stand extremely still so as to prevent his hands from reaching out for you. “James, I didn’t take your favourite song, okay? You have to sing Don’t Stop Believin’! Oh, shit–” You don’t realise your cue to sing the chorus until it’s halfway through, but when you do find the right words, you’re extremely passionate.

“She sounds like Melly coughing up a hairball,” James says, wrinkling his nose.

An emotion far from disgust settles hot at the base of his neck.

“She looks cute,” Remus says.

“Sure, if you’re blind. And deaf.”

“Well,” Sirius says, “you do wear glasses.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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calummss · 7 months

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dating 90s/00s eminem …

masterlist 𓆩♱𓆪

kim and hailie don’t exist in this universe

start and development of relationship

i definitely imagine him to take notice of you at one of the underground rap battles roughly 1992/1993

your friend who was interested in going dragged you along one night cause they were really into rap and hip hop

and there you saw him! the one and only marshall marthers destroying every opponent that stood before him

after the battles came to an end you were already attracted to him and tried to get to him to talk to him

here’s how i think it would go:

‘hey, i just wanted to tell you that you absolutely killed it on stage. it’s my first time here so i lack certain knowledge but i know enough to know that you have an incredible talent’

‘thank you. your first time? what’s your name?’

‘y/n’

‘eminem. marshall mathers’

i imagine you to awkwardly shake hands. like i know you’re in the detroit underground scene but neither of you knew how to proceed

‘i hope this won’t be a shot in the dark but can i give you my number?’ your mind literally racing

‘sure, i’ll give you a call if i’m interested’

THIS MAN TURNS AROUND AND DIALS YOUR NUMBER AND LETS YOU ANSWER!! turning around with a smirk and just straight up low key flirting with you

he was embarrassed to bring you to his home but you eventually just showed up one day cause he wasn’t returning calls—you reassured him that you didn’t care and let slip that you loved him no matter what

marshall was definitely a bit overwhelmed at first and took him like a minute to snap out of his trance because it was most likely the first time he truly felt loved, appreciated and cared for

you supported him and his music until he was eventually signed

everyone was confused why you stayed with a man who wrote violent lyrics especially about his wife so you had to explain over and over again that the wife was fictional

and everyone that truly knew marshall knew that he would never lay a hand on you. he would rather d!e than hurt you

three years after you meet you become pregnant and were scared he was going to leave (news flash he didn’t)

he reassured you that if you wanted to keep the baby that you two would figure it out and that he would and could never ever leave your side

you married quick and definitely rushed it but it proved to be the best decision you made including keeping the baby

this lead to the birth of your beautiful daughter—for some reason the name romy jane won’t leave my mind so i’ll just leave it at that

anyway you blink and stardom surrounds marshall

a few hiccups occurred during the relationship but nothing major and you always managed to talk things trough

what the relationship would include

his hand would alway be on your waist! no matter if you’re on his lap, standing next to him or whatever, his hand will be at its rightful place

i believe he prefers cheek and jaw kisses. he loves a good forehead kiss and hand kiss when he’s emotional and talking to you about certain struggles

speaking of struggles; he would always and i mean always put on his strong persona for you but sometimes his walls would crumble and would cry into your shoulder holding you so tight like you’re about to slip from his grasp

you would make appearances in a few music videos

he would also prefer to be in the studio alone but brings you along when all demos are done to get your opinion because he values it a lot (low key more than dres)

of course you would be his main inspiration for a lot of songs, also you daughter, because he admires both of you so much

marshall is 100% a very jealous and possessive man. not overbearing but maybe a little more intense than the average man? he trusts you fully but not others. he doesn’t forbid you of anything but will always say and do stuff to let others know that you’re off limits

i imagine after you got married he got a tattoo of your face or name on his chest like right over his heart

likes holding hands in public and an occasional kiss but nothing more. he prefers his affection to be reserved for only you and not the world

ONLY refers to you as ‘my girl’. when he’s with friends he’d say stuff like ‘yo, where is my girl?’. and others would also refer to you as ‘his girl’. at one point you just got the nickname ‘slim’s girl’ or ‘shady’s girl’ depending on which you prefer

tries to keep you away from hollywood and only goes for recordings, shows etc. when he’s done you both leave for detroit to lead a somewhat quiet life

definitely will buy you a lot of gifts. sometimes expensive or cheap; something that reminds him of you or something he knows you want. he just feels like showering you with gifts. his love language is giving gifts or acts of service. he will watch your favourite show just because you like it

em will always thank you in his speeches!! something along the lines of ‘first of all thank you to dr. dre and my two beautiful girls who i love with my entire heart. you two are my world, i love you!’

but like you don’t understand he will always thank you. he could win a life time supply of soap and he would say your name with pride…he’s just so grateful to have you and to be able to call you family

would hold your bag/bags for you. marshall gives you princess treatment without realising bc he genuinely wants to do it. he will snatch those bags out of your hands before you can protest

when other artists or people take your name or your daughter’s name into their mouths with negative connotations you best believe em will rip them apart, so most people will never attack you or romy bc it’s a death sentence

people can call him lame, bad rapper, ugly, whatever they feel like but as soon as anyone mentions a hair on you or romy’s bodies…it’s over. careers are shredded…you love it though

if you are a girl who likes to get her nails done this is for you; at first you started asking him to choose a design and colour and at first he was confused but he learned to love it especially when you scratched his head or your hands around his yknow what…he even once tried to design some and you got it done

the sex is a mix of mildy rough and vanilla. sometimes you both need something a little more “agressive” but he also needs a calm session. i see it kind as a light switch: it’s either rough or vanilla, occasionally you mix it but it turns out one way or another

also the man is a sucker (pun) for head. like he loves your mouth on him. i genuinely believes it’s in his top 2 favourite sexual activities (don’t deny it i’m right)

extra: if you love marshall right and you two work, it will be both of yours best love, but if things don’t work they can quickly turn into a relationship from hell

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tzuyusluv · 30 days

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☀︎ Return of Happiness

genre -> fluff

pairing -> enha’s niki x reader

warnings -> idol au, mentions of getting married, niki teases mc slightly

word count -> 0.6k

summary -> meeting niki after a long tour

This plane ride back to Korea was longer than the three month long tour. Maybe it’s because during the tour you were too distracted by seeing all your fans, the new places and being splashed with water by your other members to really think about being in a different country from your boyfriend and friends.

It felt like it had been three days since you boarded, but looking at the time on your phone showed it had only been an hour and a half. You still had around eleven more to go until you reached Seoul’s airport and most likely another hour until you could get out of there if you were lucky.

Looking at the time again, you sigh when you see that only a minute has passed. Your leader, who sat next to you, placed their hand on your shoulder gently and rubbed their hand against it, comforting you.

“I know you want to go see him. You will once we land. The company always gives a few weeks break after a tour.” They whispers softly. “You can go to sleep and dream of giving Riki your gifts from every city we visited. I’ll wake you up an hour before we land.”

Sleep sounded good. Especially as an idol who often didn’t get enough sleep. But yet, your mind just couldn’t stop thinking. You thought of every concert, the outfits the fans war that sometimes rivaled yours when you were on stage, your members who were littered throughout the plane. You thought of Riki the most though. How sweet he was, how his humor always landed with everyone he met, how he was so much taller than you and treated you so gently, like a porcelain doll.

You started to drift off at the thought of him. Eventually your eyes shut and you fell asleep. Dreaming of Riki.

You woke to your leader tapping your shoulder. “Hey, we’ve landed. I tried to wake you at the hour mark but you didn’t want to.” They explain gently. Stretching as best as you can in those small spaces, you look around as everyone started to stand up and grab their packages. “Manager says that there’s a surprise out there.” They say standing from their seat to count where the rest of your members are currently.

“A surprise?” You ask. “Manager never surprises us.” Your leader nods in agreement. Waiting for everyone to clear out, you move in the aisle. Your leader following and grabbing both of your guys luggage’s. When the rest of your group eventually groups back up, you exit the plane while expressing your thanks to the flight attendants.

“Ok I was told we have wait here for manager.” The leader stops the group. You lean on your luggage, still tired and oblivious to the grins that your members are giving you.

Jolting up when you feel hands on your waist, you turn around thinking it was one of your members seeking revenge for you pouring a water bottle over them. Instead you turn and meet Riki.

“Hey jagi.” He says smiling while you stand there dumbfounded. “Wow I’m so hurt. Not even a hug.” He fake pouts. You snap out of your trance before lunging on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. “Missed me that much didn’t you?” He teases as he gently kisses your temple. Hiding your face in his neck, you nod your head as best as you can. “Well don’t worry. Your manager said that I can sleep over tonight as long as the door is open.” He says against your skin before kissing it again.

“Got gifts for you in every city.” You mumble against his neck. “Wow stealing my ideas now huh? First it was my heart, then my ideas. What’s next, my last name?” He teases you again. You just shake your head in disbelief at his words. “Don’t worry Jagi. I’ll make sure to get your managers blessings before.”

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theemporium · 3 months

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click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends!

You had thought you were perfectly content with love being expressed silently until you met Nico Hischier.

For you, love and silence had always been interchangeable throughout your entire life. You weren’t sure when it clicked, when the realisation had been set in stone in your head and never to be argued with. You just knew that silence usually meant good things, that it meant positive feelings. At least, you liked to assume.

When it came to your parents, the silence meant there was no scolding or nitpicking. They were never shy at the way they pointed out your flaws, your mistakes, your errors. It was hidden under concerns and wishes for you to thrive, but the pressure just felt as suffocating and overbearing as them. The silence was a relief from the constant remarks.

In school, it was like the teachers and professors just expected you to do well. They saw a bright child, so the second the grades started to matter, the assumption was made that you would just thrive. That pressure returned, and you hated the disappointing and disapproving talks you would get if you did badly. Once again, the silence was a relief, it meant they left you alone and that was what you wanted.

It followed as the same in almost every aspect in your life: in your friendships, in your relationships, in your careers, in your achievements. Silence had become so intertwined with love, success and praise in your life that you knew nothing but.

Until Nico Hischier.

Maybe it was the captain in him, or maybe it was just the kind of guy Nico was. It was almost comical to think back upon the early stages of your relationship, when everything was so new and his words left you overwhelmed—but in a good way, in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“You didn’t have to wake up with me,” Nico said as he wandered into the kitchen.

Unlike you who was still in your pyjamas, he was dressed in some sweatpants and a hoodie—the Devils logo and his number standing out on both. His gym bag was dropped at his feet before he wandered over to where you stood by the stove.

It was early. Dreadfully early, in fact. And despite every cell in your body screaming for you to stay in your warm, cosy bed when Nico’s alarm blared for his early morning practice, you wanted to do a little something for him for once.

“I wanted to make you a proper breakfast,” you shrugged, letting out a soft sigh as he wound his arms around your waist, his chest pressed into your back as the warmth of him washed over you. “An apple and a protein shake isn’t enough.”

“It’s worked alright so far,” Nico grumbled, his head dropped to your shoulder as he watched you cook. “But thank you. You’re amazing, schätzi.”

You snorted. “You mean having a proper breakfast is amazing.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “I mean you are amazing. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

And maybe there was still a part of you that wasn’t used to Nico’s constant praise and affection. You could do hugs and kind acts and thoughtful gifts but, fuck, the words really got to you.

It just baffled you how easily the words could pass his lips. It came so naturally to him, so fucking easily that it made you question how you went your whole life having people struggle to even give you basic appreciation but this boy seemed to be able to praise you for something as simple as making him a meal. But it went beyond that.

Nico did it with everything.

You look gorgeous, baby, that dress was made for you.

Fuck, schätzi, doing so good f’me. Just like that.

I’m so proud of you.

You’re doing the best you can, baby, you’re so strong.

He wasn’t shy about his appreciation for you. He showed his love in so many different ways that made him the absolute perfect boyfriend, but the words that left his lips were the most consistent and—though you didn’t have the courage to say it yet—your favourite.

“You’re a sap in the mornings,” you commented, because whilst you were used to hearing them, it would still take time to fully accept them and not deflect instantly.

He knew that. If anything, he thought it was adorable. It prompted him to do it more often just to see how flushed you got, just to see the way you were somehow caught off-guard every single time.

“Maybe you should wake up with me more often,” Nico retorted, swaying your bodies together in the chilly kitchen. “I could use a shower buddy.”

You snorted. “You would never make it to practise on time.”

“That is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Nico shrugged, but you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You’re gonna set a bad influence, captain,” you teased, shaking your head.

Nico let out a low groan. “Don’t start calling me captain, I have to leave in fifteen.”

“Think of it as motivation to do well,” you countered as you plated up your breakfasts and lightly nudged him so he would allow you to place them on the breakfast bar. “I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

Nico shot you a look. “You’re a temptress.”

You grinned back.

“A gorgeous, sexy temptress that I can’t wait to come back home too,” Nico continued, pleased at the way your face flushed in response.

“Dick,” you grumbled but you happily accepted the kiss he placed on your cheek as he thanked you for the breakfast.

And, much to his delight, you were in bed waiting for him after he had come home from practice, eager to climb in with you.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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avoxrising · 6 months

Text

The Feral One • Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The first thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was the hands of Capital doctors grabbing at you. Three weeks in the arena had left you extremely weak and you had a bad cut on your face but none of that mattered. They were touching you and you didn’t like that.

The second thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was waking up chained to your hospital bed, surrounded by peacekeepers and President Snow.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the old man stated. “I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult with us.”

“Difficult?” you ask with what little voice you have left.

“It seems that you won’t let us treat your wounds, or let anyone get close to you for that matter,” he states. “The poor doctor was just trying to take your temperature when you stabbed him with a scalpel.”

“He was touching me,” you reply.

“Oh my dear we have a long road ahead of us if you are planning on remaining… difficult.”

You hadn’t meant to kill so many people. First it was 6 in the arena, then it was the doctor in the capital, then it was your first client, then it was another capital doctor and a peacekeeper trying to restrain you. By the time you came down from your lapse in sanity, you had been sentenced to house arrest in District 4’s victors village.

“Feral” is what they called you. To everyone outside of your home you were uncontrollable; crazy; even dangerous. To yourself, you were broken; confused; misunderstood. To him, you were everything.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Linessa, the District 4 escort, calls out as she reaps the tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games. Mags moves to volunteer but you quickly shoot her a look and she backs down. She knows you won’t hurt her, in fact, she’s one of the few people who genuinely cares for you, but she knows not to interfere when your mind is made up.

Annie shrinks into Mags’ side as you shuffle past her towards the escort. She’s another poor, misunderstood being like you. The two of you have never been friends for the simple reason that she is absolutely terrified of you and sometimes her meltdowns set you off. Maybe in a different reality you two would be friends, but not in this one.

Peacekeepers follow you to the front of the stage as you drag your shackled feet forward. This is the first time anyone besides the victors has seen you in around 5 years, and they’re getting a good look at what “feral” looks like.

The peacekeepers hold a gun to your back as you stand on the stage, head high. It’s so hot out you’re hoping you’ll sweat enough to slip your hands out of your cuffs. The district center looks the same as the last time you saw it all those years ago.

“Finnick Odair,” Linessa reads out and your head immediately snaps towards her. She lets out a small shriek and the peacekeepers tighten their hold on their guns as Finnick makes his way to the front to stand next to you. Of course, they don’t let him get anywhere near you, but you wouldn’t hurt him. You would burn the whole world to the ground if it meant protecting him.

The peacekeepers allow Mags to join you and Finnick on the train but they don’t let her anywhere near you. Finnick tries to tell them that you’re fine and won’t hurt anyone but they won’t listen.

You’re done trying to advocate for yourself. In fact, it’s useless. You haven’t spoken to anyone besides Finnick in five years. Not since your client…

Anyways, peacekeepers escort you to your room and set up guard in the hall. They’re too scared to be in the room with you, and none of the avoxes will go near you.

You wouldn’t have even been fed if it weren’t for Finnick barging into your room (despite the peacekeepers’ protests) with a plate of food. The peacekeepers made him keep the door open so they could monitor the situation but at least you could eat.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks as you pick at your food. You shrug your shoulders in response. He goes to lay his hand close to yours in comfort, causing one of the peace keepers to pipe up.

“Hey!” he yells, causing you to jump. “Back up Mr. Odair. We’ve been advised not to let anyone get within five feet of it.”

Finnick stands up and moves himself between you and the peacekeepers.

“First of all,” he states. “She is not an ‘it’. She’s a human being like the rest of us. Secondly, she is not a danger to me. She would never hurt me and even if she tried we both know I would win that fight. Scaring her like that is only going to set her off, and I won’t hold her back if she does. The best thing you can do, for everyone’s safety, is treat her like a human being, absolutely do not touch her, and no yelling. She’s not an animal, she’s traumatized.”

“Sir we’ve been ordered to shoot her at the first sign of agression. The capital doctors have advised us that she’s a danger to those around her,” the peacekeeper states.

“The capital doctors haven’t seen her in over five years!” Finnick exclaims. “They don’t know the first thing about her. Now get out and let us eat in peace. Don’t forget I’ve killed people too.”

The peacekeepers, visibly shaken, leave your room and allow the door to close. Finnick sits back down on your bed with you to resume your meal.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x oc #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #catching fire #the feral one

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batterygarden · 2 years

Text

Aki Hayakawa bf headcanons

m.list!!

cw: F!reader, she’s shorter than him, sliiightly suggestive moment .. MDNI

Sigh he’s… really good at being a boyfriend. He’s intimidating but sweet all at the same time.

He loves a nice passenger princess and loathes sitting beside you while you drive. Not that he doesn’t trust you, just… your technique behind the wheel has him stressed.

“No no please don’t merge now i'm not sure if— woah, okay that was close now just— noo stop we don’t turn here! Baby do you not know the—check the — okay pull over actually! It’s okay I can drive! It’s fine, please let me drive.”

He calls you a menace to the streets 😔

He likes to go to concerts and house shows with you. Ugh he loves an indie punk mosh pit for sure. He doesn’t seem like he’s that into it in the moment—maybe listening with a little head nod while his hands remain secured around your waist, glaring at people who shove into you, but you can tell in the flush of his cheeks and lit up eyes that he’s thoroughly enjoying his night.

He has the advantage of always seeing the stage with his height, something you say he takes for granted when some equally tall guy decides to stand directly in front of you. But Aki has enough audacity to nudge you both in front of any perpetrators whenever your vision is blocked.

Lest we forget… this man has no manners! To most people, Aki can be direct to the point of rudeness—his demeanor could even be described as harsh.

Especially when it concerns his sweet little girlfriend. He doesn’t fuck around when it comes to you. He’s protective. He cares about your comfort and safety before anyone else’s and isn’t afraid to hurt feelings that aren’t yours.

Not that he doesn’t know you can stick up for yourself—he respects your ability to handle most situations. But he also knows when you shouldn’t have to handle it yourself. If somebody at the bar won’t stop grabbing your arm and you’re uncomfortable, Aki will be the one to tell them to back the fuck off.

If some man makes a joke about your outfit being slutty, Aki will be the one to back hand him across the face! He knows you could have done it but it’s nothing you needed to mess up your nails over.

He’s cute in little ways you wouldn’t expect. For example, you didn’t imagine when you first met him that this 6’4” cigarette-smoking death machine was into cartoons and animation but damn!! He is.

He’ll watch wholesome shows with you like sailor moon with the straightest face, looking bored out of his mind with his arm over your shoulder, then turn to you when it’s over like “that was delightful :)”

He has a small trinket and keepsake collection <3. And he’s not embarrassed about it. He will shamelessly steal a little frog keychain he finds under the seat in his uber and place it on his night stand beside his miniature Radio Flyer wagon and the light blue rock you found for him. The rock supposedly looks like his eyes, he thought the gesture was cute.

He wants to match his jewelry with yours. Lets you pick out the earrings you want and asks you to get him a pair too, sliding his credit card into your hand while he looks at watches through the glass at the store.

He knows they’ll be nice and look good on him—he trusts your taste and style recommendations explicitly—but he also wants to match because it makes him feel more connected with you.

He’s a touch possessive. He likes to be reminded you’re his. And he’s yours. He wants you wearing his clothes, he wants you borrowing his cologne, and he’d never admit it but he likes when you leave the house with love bites on your neck.

Not that you mind—honestly he’s earned the right to possession after taking such good care of you all the time.

It took you a while to get through your pretty head that Aki likes helping and caring for you.

Like he’s into it if you’re needy… triple and quadruple texting, calling him to ask for rides, pouting if you can’t hold his hand… you make him feel valued.

But even when you’re not needy he enjoys going out of his way to make your life easier.

He’ll do your dishes when you don’t ask, make your bed, give massages. You don’t have to mention it.

“Noo you don’t have to do my laundry Aki, I swear. You surpassed your chore limit today like, long ago.” He’ll retrieve the towel he used to dry dishes and be like I needed to wash this anyway, I’ll just throw your stuff in the machine with it!

He uses your claw hair clip to hold his hair back when he’s doing stuff around the house. <3

He also religiously adheres to the sidewalk rule <3

So emotionally intelligent it’s insane. This man is in therapy & it shows in his communication; he knows how to word things gently but honestly!

“It’s valid to feel that way. For sure, s’just.. I disagree that you need to go to those lengths for her when she keeps blatantly disregarding your feelings.”

He’ll let you smoke one of his cigarettes if you’re reeally persistent but he’s always weird about it.

“Just… wish you wouldn’t. What if you got lung cancer or something.” “Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll catch up and I can get it the same time as you.” He’d roll his eyes. “Ha ha. Y’know it’s different when I do it.”

“How so?” “I’m tough. and you’re not even addicted yet.”

He loves getting domestic with you! Cooking together with his phone playing quiet background music, watching a movie with you in his lap, letting you do your skin care on him. These are by far Aki’s favorite activities.

Heavy on the skincare part—Aki was blessed with perfect skin since birth so he never really put much thought into cleansers or anything, but the first time you did a facial for him was one of the best days of his life.

You’d laid him down on your bed, straddling his waist with a towel full of products laid out next to you, and Aki said it felt like you were about to perform surgery. You wet his face with a damp cloth then, and started rubbing some mysterious soap into his skin with a touch like warm flower petals. Your hands felt so soft. When you started wiping some fruity scented blue gel over his skin after, it felt so soothing he almost moaned. The whole thing was so relaxing he had a dream about you washing his face again when he fell asleep that night. He never explicitly told you how much he loved your skincare, but you picked it up when he started asking you to do him next every time you washed your face at night.

You’re his sensitive little baby so he never goes overboard but… Aki does tease you sometimes 💔. He can’t help it—he was an older brother once, so tasteful bullying is kind of ingrained in his DNA.

Like you oversleep then almost rush out the door with an inside-out shirt and toothpaste on your chin and he instinctively says you look scrungly. There’s a pause then he apologizes.

Or you’ll say you didn’t think pulp fiction was that insanely good of a movie and he’ll move your fresh cup of tea onto one of the really high selves only he can reach until you take it back.

He’ll also mention it immediately if you’re ever stinky. Fresh from the gym? Forgot to put on deodorant today? Aki can tell and he will let you know. <3 He’s nice enough to accompany you in the shower though!

denji bf hcs 1 & 2

#Aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa headcanon #Aki hayakawa x you #csm x reader #chainsaw man hcs #chainsaw man x reader #Aki fluff

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thinemoonshine · 17 days

Text

⋆ ˚｡ 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇! ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

enhypen 8th fem!member x hyung line genre: fluff type: headcannons word count: 644

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: when (y/n)’s shirt collar is too wide for her frame and ends up slipping off one shoulder without her notice, the hyung line’s protective instincts instantly kick in. especially when they’re doing a live where the comments are either cupcakes and rainbows or the literary form of pandora’s box ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

ᯓ lee heeseung

would probably take a while to notice

but when he does, he’ll probably think nothing of it at first considering you’ve worn off-shoulder clothes for stages before anyways

but then the reality of being on live will strike him and he’ll turn his head to you so quick

might as well snap his neck at it

“your shirt,” he’ll say loud enough for you to hear

in the case you don’t hear him and he’s sitting beside you, he’ll tilt his head down to your face which instantly diverts your attention

bangs swaying over his eyes, he’ll repeat himself

“(y/n), your shirt”

grins when you finally listen and gives a little ruffle of your hair before facing the front again

ᯓ park jongseong

would notice instantly

will probably wait just a bit to let you notice it yourself

you don’t

will be internally tweaking

scratch that, maybe a bit outwardly too

eyes rapidly blinking and jaw tightening because he's worried

sends you a text to tell you about it

but then your phone isn’t around or you don’t notice the message

he’ll clear his throat and turns to you before saying a quiet, “(y/n)…”

you turn and he’ll subtly gesture to his shoulder to which you’ll finally notice your fallen shirt

man’s will be so relieved that it’s blatantly seen from the way his shoulders loosen and drop

comments will be pointing it out, teasing him with little ‘ㅋㅋㅋ’

ᯓ sim jaeyun

brows raised, lips parted and eyes shifting to you through the screen

he’s not the quickest to notice, but not slow either

raking his hair back, he’ll then try to capture your attention

if you’re sitting away from him, he’ll pat whoever it is that sits between you and him— discreetly asking them to relay the message

but if you and him are close enough, he’ll probably nudge you inconspicuously

hesitant at first, unsure if you’re even bothered by the whole ‘accidental off-shoulder’ thing in the first place

maybe you preferred it, he’s uncertain

but he’ll still inform you about

finger gently pokes or hand softly pats your leg with shifty glances to not alarm the viewers

“your shoulder’s, uh, out”

seeing as how you fix it after though, he’ll feel proud of himself that he’d done a good deed and is able to read you well

might even be smiling to himself

ᯓ park sunghoon

side eye

SIDE EYEEEE

you guys know that boom vine sound? yeah, imagine that every time he side eyes (y/n) because he’ll do it— A LOT

he’s shifty. he wants to say something but he doesn’t know how to

after all, you’re sitting away from him- either the other end of the couch, or the floor, or basically anywhere else except for beside him

1 minute passes

BOOM— side eye

another minute—BOOM BOOM— double take

at one point, he’ll get irritated on why no one else is helping you and why you haven’t noticed

his thick brows furrow slightly—not too noticeable for everyone to realize, but neither is it unobtrusive for completely everyone to not notice

then all of a sudden, he stands from his spot and randomly walks in front of his members like he’s heading somewhere

he passes by you and, oh? your collar’s lifted back up to it’s rightful place

you didn’t even see it but you felt it

his hand that grazed delicately yet so swiftly like a flash of lightning

even the camera didn’t catch it— him being agile and skillful enough to do it while walking by thus, concealing his motions with his tall figure

he’ll return to his seat without so much of a glance at you and only turns after a good minute or so

smiles with satisfaction at his successful execution

the fans notice it though, how (y/n)’s collar suddenly shifted the moment he went by

sunghoon magician era?

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog— they give me some motivation, ya know? X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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steddieas-shegoes · 19 days

Note

Congratulations on 3k! Really enjoy your drabbles and fics :)

"Who cares if it was meant to be or not?"

Thank you so much!

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

The band took the stage a few minutes late. Eddie had gone missing shortly before their final warning, and they can’t exactly perform without their lead guitarist.

When he was found, he’d been crying, but he brushed it off like it was nothing, said he was good to go.

He wasn’t. He had one of the worst shows of his life. Not a great look for a band trying to get a headlining tour.

No one said anything after; Eddie was already upset enough. With himself, with someone else, maybe both.

Eventually, Jeff couldn’t take the moping.

“Alright, man. You wanna tell us what’s going on? We just had a pretty shitty show and you look like you’re ready to have a breakdown,” he said as he sat next to Eddie on the couch of their tour bus.

“Sorry. Um. Sorry guys. Just. Had it out with Steve earlier.”

“Is-“ Gareth started to ask. “Are you guys okay now? Did you call him after?”

“No. No, I don’t think he wants me to.”

Everyone stared at Eddie in disbelief. Sure, they teased him all the time for falling for the jock stereotype, but they were perfect for each other. Everyone who knew them knew that.

“Why not?”

“Some things just aren’t meant to be, Gare.”

“No! Fuck that! Who cares if it was meant to be or not?” Gareth paced the floor. “You guys are so good together. You’re like a damn romance novel or something. Like those stupid chick flicks.”

“Gareth.” Jeff’s tone got his attention, but Eddie didn’t look up. “It’s not our business.”

“Like hell it isn’t. He just played like shit! We deserve to know why.”

Eddie stood up and walked to his bunk.

“Good job, idiot,” Grant rolled his eyes and followed.

“I’m calling Steve,” Gareth said. “Something’s gotta be done.”

“Dude, just leave it. They’ll either work it out or they won’t.”

“And if they don’t, Eddie’s gonna be like this forever.” Gareth pulled his cell phone from his pocket and opened his text thread with Steve. “If it’s so bad, Steve will ignore me.”

Hey call me

Not now

Please Eddie’s a fuckin mess

Gareth’s phone started ringing. He smirked up at Jeff, who walked away with his hands crossed over his chest.

“Steve.”

“Is Eddie okay?”

“No. What happened? We just had the shittiest show-“

“But is he okay?”

“No! What happened before the show?”

He could hear Steve sniffle.

“I just. It’s hard. It’s hard being here and he’s never here. And I know that’s what we agreed was best for this tour, but it’s hard. And he keeps saying he misses me and it hurts because what am I supposed to do?” Steve was crying now, Gareth was fighting his own tears. “So I told him to do something about it earlier and he told me he couldn’t and it turned into us arguing about his priorities and I didn’t even mean that I thought the band was more important than me, it just sucks. It’s hard.”

“Steve, I get it man. I mean, I don’t. But I know it’s hard. For both of you. Did you-“ Gareth bit his lip. “Did you break up?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Can you unbreak up?”

“Maybe. But-“

“Gareth, who is that?” Eddie’s voice asked from the curtain to the bunk beds. His eyes were red, tear tracks not even dry on his cheeks. “Is that Steve?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie came over and sat next to Gareth, grabbing the phone from him.

“Steve?” He sounded broken. “Are you okay?”

Gareth got up and went back to the bunks.

“The fuck did you do?” Jeff asked.

“Fixed it. You’re both welcome,” Gareth got in bed and smiled as he heard Eddie laugh.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

The next night was better.

The night after that, Steve was standing backstage, wearing Eddie’s vest and singing along to the songs.

And every night after that, and on their first headlining tour, and their next one, and their next one, Steve was there for most nights.

Eddie gave his everything because he had his everything.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #temporary breakup #sorry this got angsty #but happy endings only in this house

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter one: october 2019

summary: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you: carmy, the recently promoted chef du cuisine at the best restaurant in the world, has no idea what he's in for when he accidentally spills his drink on the recently hired patissiere. (prequel to make my heart surrender)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language. eventual smut.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: dover beach part 2 - baby queen | alaska - maggie rogers | less than i do - the band camino | 2 / 14 - the band camino

a/n: i'm back back back again! this is six part series will be a snapshot of carmy x reader's relationship in nyc that span across a three year period. i'm really looking forward to writing their friendship & so much repressed sexual tension it's not even funny. this is the first story i've published without it being almost or fully written so updates will maybe be more sporadic this time.

October 2019

“i was hoping somehow we'd end up together, outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes. the wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face. i'm lonely for you only, and i'm trying to convince you that i'm something you could love.” – dover beach (pt 2)

He hates you.

You’re absolutely sure of it.

You can see it in the way his body stiffens as you walk by – in the way he hasn’t stopped sending you long, piercing glares across the kitchen – in just how bright red his face turns when you catch him doing it.

And for what? For being excellent? For being good enough to get a job after staging that one night?

Fuck that, you think to yourself.

You find Carmen Berzatto infuriating, and it begins to dawn on you that you may have had one too many gin cocktails to stomach the fact that you have to be here tonight.

Here, at his promotion party.

Here, at this stupid fucking bar that you hate.

Here, because he’s sort of everyone’s boss now… and it’s something you’re just going to have to live with.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise. There’d been talk of a leadership change (and Carmy filling the CDC position) when you had first started working here, but having a head’s up didn’t really help you now. You just hadn’t pictured having to go out for drinks to celebrate the man that seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as you. But your friend Liz, one of the chef de parties at the restaurant, had insisted you come with, since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. You understood why you both had to go, so you’d invited your other best friend to help the both of you get through.

You thank your lucky stars that your direct report is the head pastry chef and not Carmy. Using your boss as a buffer, you had used every excuse in the book to avoid interacting with him.

Sure, he was brilliant.

Sure, he was a wunderkind who had just gotten back from a three month stage at noma right before he was hired here.

Sure, he was kind of a total asshole.

“Fuck that, man! C’mon. Just one shot. It’s your big night, motherfucker!” Nate calls out, practically shoving a shot into Carmy’s hand.

“Oh, I- uh, I’m good, man,” Carmy stutters, trying to find an excuse not to take the shot.

Truthfully, he hates shots… and he’s not much of a vodka drinker either.

He’s just not in the mood to get hammered either, his thoughts consumed with tomorrow, his first day as chef du cuisine, going perfectly.

You watch the uncomfortable interaction, almost feeling bad for the guy. Nate and the most recently promoted sous, Tim, are trying their best to corral Carmy into taking the shot as you walk by. You can see the uncomfortable look on Carmy’s face as he declines Nate’s offer for a second time.

In fact, he seems like a different person tonight. He’s… boyishly awkward, almost, and you wonder if he’s maybe not so great in social situations. As you pass by, drink in hand, you hear a cacophony of sound. Carmy’s trying his best to dodge his friends’ next attempt, and before you know it, Nate’s practically pushing him towards Tim, sending Carmy backwards, tumbling right into you.

You feel the wet liquid of your gin and tonic, along with the shot of vodka that’s flown out of Carmy’s hand spill all over your shirt. The shot glass shatters as it hits the floor, and the sobering feeling of ice cold liquid soaking through your shirt causes you to shriek.

“Shit! What the fuck, Carmy!” you yell, angrily, as you push him off of you.

At this point, you could care less that he’s everyone’s new boss, and the drama of it all has caught the attention of almost all of the other restaurant staff that have come out tonight. Your friends rush towards you, searching for as many napkins as they can grab.

“Fffffuck,” is all he says back and you can’t believe he’s yelling at you right now. You watch as his face changes quickly, from angry, to thoroughly shocked as he begins to stammer through an apology.

“I-. I’m sorry I-. I didn’t mean to-.”

He scrambles to help you, with one cocktail napkin as you push him away, your friends rushing to your side.

“No! I don’t want your help,” you grit through a clenched jaw.

“Shit, your shirt is ruined… C’mon,” Liz says, as she ushers you away shooting a glare in Carmy’s direction.

“Damn, man. You could just ask her out,” you can hear Nate say, even though you’re too preoccupied with examining the damage of your totally soaked through t-shirt.

So much for a chill evening.

“Oh shut up, Nate,” Maya snaps at the sous. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You nod, following her as she leads you away towards the bathroom.

Back at the bar, Liz is trying her best to remedy the situation, trying her best to clean up the mess you left behind. She watches Carmy closely, trying to figure out whether she’s going to pay for this tomorrow. But instead of being angry, he just seems embarrassed… remorseful, even. There’s a small part of her that feels bad for the guy as it becomes clearer that he may just not be great in social situations.

As soon as you get to the single-room bathroom, you're swearing loudly and stripping off your shirt. It’s completely see through and you know you’re going to smell like a distillery until you can get home to shower.

“I told you. He hates me,” you pout, examining your reflection in the mirror, a scowl glued to your face. You dap a few dry paper towels across your chest.

“I think it was just an accident, sweetie,” Maya says, sympathetically, as she tries her best to console you.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit in defeat.

As much as you’d like to blame this on him, you know it wasn’t his fault.

“Sorry I asked you to come tonight. If I knew it would be this much drama-,” you begin, before being promptly cut off.

“Oh no, I’m all here for this drama,” she laughs, causing you to shake your head and lighten up a little about the situation.

As angry as you’d like to be with Carmy, you know that the truth of the matter is that he hadn’t meant to spill his drink all over you. You should be mad at Nate and Tim… but it just feels easier to be mad at Carmy considering.

“Incoming!” you hear a voice say as Liz arrives. In her hands, she holds what looks like a white t-shirt, neatly folded up, that she hands to you. “Anyone in need of dry clothes?”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief, glady taking it.

“Good on you for having an extra,” Maya says.

“Well, it’s a restaurant. You never know when you’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Liz shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes that Maya notices, as she says it. You find it a little strange that she seems to be watching you for a reaction, but you brush off the look she sends you, as you slide the dry t-shirt over your head.

The t-shirt isn’t much bigger than an oversized fit you’d buy for yourself – which makes sense because Liz is a bit taller than you. The cotton fabric hangs loosely over your form as your eyes flicker over to your completely soaked through shirt that lays crumpled up on the bathroom sink.

“Well, ladies. We did our best,” you resign yourself, as you notice your still-very-wet bra begin soaking through the white t-shirt.

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can get some more paper towels. Or uh.. See if the kitchen has a towel we can use,” Liz says, nodding her head towards the door.

“We’ll be right back,” Maya reassures you, empathy in her eyes.

You watch as Liz follows her, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for the door to the bathroom to swing open again, which surprises you. You gasp as soon as you see who's come through the door, and you’re crossing your arms over your chest which may only make the wet bra, white t-shirt ordeal even worse. A very flustered Carmy stands in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as if he hadn’t expected you to be in here.

“There’s uh… someone in here,” you scoff, unable to hide the irritation in the sound of your voice. You hug your arms closer to yourself, almost as if to cover yourself up.

“No I-, yeah, I know I just-,” he stammers, his eyes shifting to the floor. He feels like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and he can feel all the blood rushing to his face, instantly regretting his decision not to knock first.

“I actually, uh… I came to apologize,” he manages to get out, his words quiet. He says it as if there’s an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence. You can see the way he runs his eyes back and forth, trailing over the fancy floor tile, searching for the right words.

“I didn’t mean to- I just-. Sorry…”

His demeanor surprises you. At work, Carmy’s this confident, commandeering, talented chef, but tonight, he seems anything but.

Nervous. Shy. Like a fish out of water, even.

You take a breath, trying your best to relax.

You can feel some of your guard coming down as you begin to accept he really hadn’t meant to spill his drink on you. But you’re not eager to forget the fact that he’s been kind of an asshole to you since you started working here. Unsure of how to respond, you give literal effort to replying with a:

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

He knows you don’t mean it.

In fact, he can hear how painful it is for you to get out those words.

You wait for him to leave, but Carmy continues to stand in the bathroom with you, awkwardly. But he doesn’t say anything, so you figure that the least you can do is deflect a little with humor.

“I’ll uh-, invoice you for the therapy session,” you say, trying to eliminate any malice in your tone so that he knows you’re joking. “Walking home in a wet shirt on the streets of NYC is gonna be… fun.”

“Oh uh…” he trails off, his face turning a darker shade of red.

“I’m kidding,” you state, searching his face for any kind of expression.

This man is impossible to read, you think to yourself.

His eyes are still glued to the floor as he begins to move, mumbling something you can’t quite hear in response to your failed joke. Carmy slides out of the denim jacket he’s wearing, before taking hold of it, extending an arm out to you.

“Sorry um-. Here,” he says nervously, and it’s the first time he’s allowed his eyes to meet yours. “You can uh-. You can wear this. For your walk home.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

And had his eyes always been that blue?

Your face softens.

You take the jacket hesitantly, holding it in your hands. This time you mean it when you say:

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he shrugs, daring to meet your eyes with his again.

You slip the jacket over your shoulders as the two of you stand a few feet apart. The air feels thick, and at this point, you’re not sure how to feel. Even though your bra has continued to soak through the white t-shirt, the way his denim jacket feels wrapped around your shoulders feels like an added layer of protection.

“After uh-. You know I-,” he stumbles through.

“Yeah. No I uh-. Thanks, again,” you repeat, cutting him off.

Might as well put the poor guy out of his misery.

“Anyways, I’ll make sure to get this back to you,” you interject, your voice much more reassuring this time.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You swear you can almost see the corner of his lips turn up, but you’ve never really seen him smile, so it’s not like you have much to compare it to. Carmy excuses himself, and you watch as he leaves, genuinely grateful for the peace offering.

The way that Carmy’s jacket hangs heavily around your shoulders makes you wonder if it’s real denim. You notice that it smells like him too: a faint scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, whatever scented laundry detergent he uses that feels familiar.

You and Carmy don’t speak again, save for a few short exchanges at work, but he’s been on your mind. Your interaction the other night had left an impression on you – albeit a strange one – and you’re not sure why you haven’t returned his jacket yet.

It’s not till a few days later that you speak again, leaving another strange impression on you. You head into the walk-in to get a few quarts of heavy cream and as you pull the door open, you find a flustered Carmy standing there. He’s got his hands on his hips and eyes glued to the floor with an exasperated look on his face as he watches the plastic storage containers he’s just thrown clamor across the floor. You gasp, shocked by the loud sounds, and Carmy knows he’s not alone.

As he turns to you with a glare on his face, you notice that Carmy’s eyes are puffy, his cheeks flushed red, and he looks sick as a dog.

His eyes are wide with embarrassment for a moment, before returning to their normal, stoic focus, hardened by a less than positive interaction with the exec chef.

“Sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortably. He gestures towards the storage containers on the floor, before running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair.

“It’s uh, you’re good, chef,” you say, trying your best to put your wall of professionalism up.

You had witnessed the demeaning encounter from the exec chef – everyone had. It had been impossible not to. He’d practically breathed down Carmy’s neck, taunting him for his lack of focus today, that he’s a little bitch for letting allergies get to him.

To say that the man was emotionally abusive would be an understatement.

You should leave – turn and go, and pretend that this never happened – that you’d seen nothing. But instead, you stay.

“You good, chef?” you ask softly, a hint of concern in your voice.

He sniffles again, the searing headache that robs him of his focus only burning brighter after what just happened.

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he snaps, refusing to look at you.

You wait for him to say something more, only he doesn’t. You can see he’s not feeling well and that he must be feeling worse after his metaphorical public stoning in the town square. He’s not sure what the hell it is you’re waiting for, and he just needs another fucking second to himself.

“Why are you still here?” he grits through teeth, his eyes fixed to the floor.

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re honestly not sure why you’re still in the walk-in with him either.

Maybe because you know that the exec chef is a total monster.

That he shouldn’t have talked to Carmy like that.

That you can understand why he’d be upset.

“Chef!” he says, raising his voice a little louder and flinging his hands towards the door. “Will you just-?”

You nod, a feeling of embarrassment filling your chest, as you realize he wants you to leave. You hurry out of the walk-in, closing the door behind you as you escape, your heavy cream quart containers in hand.

“You good?” Liz asks, as soon as she sees you come out of the walk-in. She’s passing by to bring a few deli containers over to the dish station.

“What?” you ask back in surprise, unaware that you look visibly shaken up.

“You look… flustered is all,” she points out.

“Oh. Yeah. I just uh-, Carmy’s in there. Throwing a fit. He just uh… snapped at me is all. But what’s new?” you reply, trying your best to shake it off.

She rolls her eyes in response, “Yeah, he can be like that. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work under him.”

You let out an annoyed exhale. It’s a funny feeling – one that leaves you a little confused: one minute he’s this chivalrous guy that’s handing you his jacket to wear home and the next he’s practically tearing your head off to get out of the walk-in. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s so hot and cold, you’re not sure what to expect from him anymore.

As you and Liz are about to part ways, you remember that you have to give her back her borrowed shirt.

“Oh!” you say, calling her attention before she returns to her station.

“I have your shirt, by the way,” you say. “From the other night.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Okay weird timing considering he’s being such an asshole today but uh…. Yeah. The shirt’s... not mine. I forgot to tell you.”

You send her a puzzled look as she shrugs.

“I didn’t think you’d take it if I told you but… it’s Carmy’s. He pulled it out of his bag when he spilled the drink on you,” she informs, waiting to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“You were so mad at him that I just figured-, it doesn't matter. He pulled it out of his bag to give to you. I think he felt really fucking bad, babe,” she interjects, revealing the truth.

Well now you’re really fucking confused.

And after your little interaction with him in the walk-in, there’s no way you’re going to bring it up to him today.

“Oh. Yeah um, got it,” you reply, feeling even more confused than when you started the day.

You show up to work the next day with the t-shirt and his jacket tucked into a canvas tote bag you plan on giving to Carmy. You’d decided to wait till you had them both, and you’re also hoping that he’s in a better mood today.

Only, Carmy’s not here today.

“Yeah, he’s out sick. Looks like those allergies turned out to be a nasty head cold,” your general manager had informed you when you’d asked about where Carmy was. “Looks like Tim’s filling in today for him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kate” you’d replied.

Later on your mid-shift break, you’d then mustered up all the courage possible to ask if anyone had checked in on Carmy. Kate, your GM, had answered no, and had been more than happy to give you his address so that you could do so. You’re not sure why you feel like it’s the right thing to do, but between his act of kindness at the bar, and his outburst in the walk-in yesterday, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little kindness. Not that you feel like you owe him or anything.

Maybe you just want to give him his clothes back and be done with it.

Maybe you’re also deeply confused about who the hell Carmen Berzatto really is.

Maybe the mystery of it intrigues you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Dinner service flies by quickly – a string of non-stop orders helps the time go faster. Carmy’s apartment is on your way home, so it’s a no-brainer to make the trip. You stop on your way at a deli nearby, picking up a quart of matzo ball soup, before heading over to his apartment.

When you get there, you knock on the door three times, anxiety beginning to flood you.

What if he thinks this is totally creepy – that you just got his address from the general manager? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he hates the fact that you’re even there in the first place?

You wonder if you should just leave the soup at the door and run as fast as you can so that, by the time he answers the door, you’re gone.

Just as you’re bending down to place the quart container down by his door, the door swings open to reveal a very congested Carmy. His curls seem wilder than normal as he looks genuinely surprised to see you crouching in the hall of his apartment.

“Hi!” you practically shout, taken off guard as you rise to your feet.

“Yo,” he says, blinking a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming. “What’s uh-, what’s going on?”

It’s weird – seeing Carmy outside of the restaurant, outside of his chef whites. His usually slicked back, out-of-his-face hair falls in the messiest most unruly curls around his face in a way that's surprisingly unkempt. He’s… almost human-like.

“This is for you,” is all you manage to say, handing him the quart container.

“Uh… thanks,” he trails off, taking it and checking out the matzo ball soup.

You’re not sure where to begin, how to explain why the hell you’re here, so you just start talking.

“I uh… your place was on the way home,” you begin. “I hope it’s okay but I got your address from Kate. I actually used to go to this deli all the time when I was a kid with my parents and I forgot that it was in your neighborhood so I just figured that I should pick something up on the way over since I heard you were sick and uh-.”

Carmy shoots you a look and he almost looks amused.

“... I’m rambling, aren’t I?” you ask, a light blush running across your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he nods, a dry laugh following.

You wait a beat, collecting yourself. You’re not sure why this is so weird, but it’s so weird.

“I came by because…” you start, digging through your canvas tote bag that’s draped across your right shoulder. “... I wanted to return these to you.”

You hold out the jacket and t-shirt folded up together to Carmy, his eyes following them.

“Liz told me that the shirt was yours too. I just-, I know we don’t always… that you don’t-, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I know it’s kind of weird at work sometimes but… I guess I just wanted to say thank you. For these. Hence the soup,” you finally explain.

“No problem,” Carmy nods, taking them in his empty hand, before disappearing momentarily to place them somewhere inside of his apartment.

You’re only a little disappointed by his short response, yet you’re not sure you expected anything else. He returns only seconds later.

“It’s uh-, Cool jacket,” you say. You can’t tell whether you’re making small talk or just saying something out of discomfort, but it seems to pique Carmy’s interest.

“It actually reminds me of the denim jacket that John Lennon used to wear ”

“You know denim?” he asks, and you could swear that you see his eyes light up for a moment.

“No, but I know music,” you reply.

“Uh I mean. Yeah. It is…” he says, with a nod, a hint of excitement in the words that follow. “Not the actual one he wore but… it’s a 1950s selvedge Wrangler. Just like Lennon.”

So he wasn’t just a fine-dining robot.

“Wow I didn’t know you were into all that,” you say, feeling some of the tension between the two of you melt. “Denim, I mean.”

“Something I picked up from my brother, I guess,” he shrugs, shyly.

“That’s funny,” you chuckle.

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Just… the thought of you having a brother,” you clarify, jokingly. “Thought you were like… grown in a lab at noma or something.”

And Carmy almost smiles, you think.

“Nope. Just Chicago,” he replies, enjoying the act of sharing something with you.

“Ahhh,” you sound, following it up with another small laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Enjoy the soup.”

“Yeah, uh. Thanks for this,” he says, holding up the brown bag.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to go.

But you don’t go yet, not ready to let go of the momentary connection you’ve built with Carmy

"You know it doesn’t have to be like this,” you say, turning back to him. He's staring at you, just like he does in the kitchen. It’s another long, languid look that makes you realize that maybe they haven’t been hate-glares after all.

“We don't have to do this... start over every time we see each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod. “I mean, I've already worn your clothes so… it’s a rather… intimate thing for us to just be strangers….”

He listens attentively.

"We could… coworkers… friends, even,” you suggest, hesitantly.

“Me and you?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by what you’ve said, or if he’s about to laugh in your face.

“If you want,” you nod in response.

He waits a beat, and you watch his facial expressions soften a little as he finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smile at him, the man you thought hated you, wants to be friends with you. You get a wicked idea, letting out a chuckle before continuing.

“Great. There’s just one thing,” you begin playfully.

You can’t help yourself.

“Hm?” he hums.

“It’s just… I haven’t made my mind up about you. So you should consider this your trial period, buddy,” you tease.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Like a stage?”

Of course it’s all kitchen-related for him.

You laugh in response, “Yeah, like a stage.”

“Heard, chef.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

Carmy’s never had someone joke with him so sweetly. Between his family and, well, Richie… it’s always been callous humor and insults thrown back and forth lovingly. This feels… different: lighter.

As he watches you walk away, he looks down at the deli quart container that he holds in his hand. He’s never had anyone take care of him before – not like this – someone who wasn’t Sugar or Mikey, and certainly not his Mom. Not like this. Not without asking for anything in return. He can’t seem to identify the warm feeling that rushes through him, and wonders, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to fall in love.

Not that he’s ever experienced that either.

By Saturday, he’s back to work and feeling much better (the soup definitely helps, he decides) but it’s not for another week that he musters up the courage to ask you what you’re doing between lunch and dinner service.

“Chef!” he calls out to you as you’re cleaning up your station.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you reply.

It’s not like you’ve been all buddy-buddy and friendly over the last week, but you’ve at least stopped thinking that he hates you. Sure you’ve decided to be friends, but it’s not like you’d expected wildly different behavior.

“You uh… wanna grab a cup of coffee? On the break, I mean,” he asks, his blue eyes seeming… more brilliant than you’ve ever noticed.

“I owe you one. You know. For the soup.”

You smile, “Yeah. I’d uh-, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

read: chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy #comfort and chaos

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bkgml · 1 year

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katsuki taking care of drunk you!

you and katsuki were in a weird place.

you both know you want each other, (so does the entire dorm). you’ve just never confessed so you’re in a weird stage of being more than friends but less than lovers.

earlier today kami got an invite from one of his one night stands to a party at a local college. she said to bring whoever he wants, so he invited you, bakugou, kirishima, mina, and jiro. you were so excited, if you could get katsuki to have a beer with you, maybe he’d loosen up a little and you could talk about your ‘situation’.

until bakugou had the genius idea to be the designated driver. why does he have to be so stupid and responsible?

guess you’re drinking away your problems tonight.

you get ready with the girls, giggling and bringing multiple outfits to mina’s dorm so she could pick for you.

“yn! you should literally wear none of these!” she saying laughing.

“you want bakugou to take notice of you tonight right?” she asks.

“well i mean a little bit, but not just for him! i’m independent!” you yell and jiro whoops.

“you’ve been independent for too long yn! it’s time to take what you want! i think, you should wear…. this!” she says pulling a dress out of her closet.

the perfect little black dress.

“okay i’m with mina now!!” jiro! how could she betray you like this!

you laugh and hold the dress up to yourself in the mirror.

“alright, alright! but only cause i’m going to look good in this.” you say shocked.

the girls cheer and you all finish getting ready.

“what the hell’s taking so long.” bakugou grumbles to his friends in the hallway.

“relax, bakugou we’re here!” you say, walking down the hallway with your girls.

“wow! you guys look great!” kirishima says, proud.

“thanks kiri!” the three of you say together.

you all get in the car and head to the party.

as you pull up, you take notice of the massive place you’re going to.

��holy shit! this is going to be awesome! our first college party!” mina squeals.

“none of you little shits better get lost, or pass out, or nothing. we’re all meeting back in this car at midnight or you’re all fuckin dead.” bakugo warns.

a chorus of ‘fine’ sings as you all get out and head to the party.

you spend the night trying to forget your issues with bakugou, by drinking, dancing, drinking, talking to your friends, drinking.

“haven’t you had enough?” bakugou says in your ear.

“lighten up. it’s a party, remember?” you say, walking away.

bakugou grumbles and goes to find a wall to lean on, so he can stand there and glare at you and your friends.

some loser chick tries to talk to him, and he looks her way to turn her down as politely as he can.

but as he looks back, you’re fucking gone.

“what the fuck? i looked away for one goddamn second.” he says to himself. eyes scanning the party in search of you.

after a minute of searching he hears a guy ask you to go upstairs with him. he’s about to lose his shit before he sees you walking up the stairs with him.

he scoffs. are you joking right now?

“yo!! bakugou! is that yn? whys she going upstairs with that guy? thought she liked you.” kirishima says.

“yeah. so did i.” he grumbles.

“well are you sure she wants to be going upstairs with him? she had a lot to drink” kirishima asks.

fuck he didn’t even think of that. he didn’t hear you say yes.

he stomps towards you, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

suddenly he sees your quirk activate, the guy sent into the wall.

you turn and see bakugou. fuck you need out of here.

“katsuki!” you say, rushing towards him.

katsuki? his heart jumps.

“hey, hey, what’s goin on?” he asks with his hands on your shoulders.

“wanna go home.” you slur.

fuck you’re so drunk.

“yeah, come on.” he says while leading you towards the rest of the group.

“alright dipshits, let’s go.” he says.

“whattt, but it’s not even 11:30!” mina defends.

“we’re going. now.” he says walking away, pushing you along with him.

you guys make it outside before you’re running into a bush to hurl your guts out.

“shit. come on, yn. you alright?” he says, rubbing your back, soothingly.

you stand straight and wipe your mouth.

“i wanna goooo.” you whine, pouting.

“i know, let’s get you home.”

you all get into the car, katsuki guides you to the passenger seat.

“but this is kiris seat.” you say, feeling guilty for taking it.

“i know, he won’t mind though, okay? you’re so sweet for thinkin of him.” he runs his fingers through your hair and you lean into his touch.

you all get into the car. while katsuki drives he keeps an eye on you, squirming in your seat.

“katsuki, i dont feel good.” you whine.

the car goes silent. you called him by his first name? and he didn’t murder you??

katsuki glares at them for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. a silent ‘dont fuckin say a word’ warning and the people in the car resume to their normal chattiness.

“i know you don’t, yn. we’re almost there, okay? just hang on.” he soothes.

you stop squirming and try to take deep breaths to settle your stomach.

“alright we’re here, get out.” katsuki says to the idiots in his back seat.

once they leave katsuki gets out and opens your door for you. you run past him and throw up in another bush.

“fuck, are you okay?” katsuki asks.

“i wanna go to sleep, katsu.” you mumble.

katsuki takes you inside and walks you to your dorm.

“where are your keys, yn?” he asks and you hand them to him.

he opens your door and steps inside.

“are you done throwing up for tonight?” he asks cautiously.

“think so.” you hiccup.

“go brush your teeth, kay? i’ll get your pyjamas.” he says and gently pushes you into your bathroom.

he looks around your room and guesses which drawer your pyjamas sit in. thankfully, he guesses right.

he picks some pyjamas for you and lays them on your bed.

you come out of the bathroom looking more refreshed.

“alright, you’re all set. see you tomorrow during your hangover.” katsuki says, turning on his heel and waking to your door.

“wait!” you call to him. he turns to you.

you walk to him and kiss him. hard. trying to start something you can’t finish. at least you used mouthwash.

“hey, hey, hey, no.” he says pulling you off him.

“please? i can’t do this waiting thing anymore katsuki.” you plead with him.

“i’m sorry, but i’m not doing this for the first time with someone who probably won’t even remember it in the morning.” he sighs, walking away again.

you run up to him again and wrap your arms around him, your cheek pressed to his back.

“i’m sorry. i made you upset.” you say.

god you’re so drunk.

he turns in your grip.

“i’m not upset, baby. i just don’t want us doing something we’ll regret cause you were drunk.”

you look up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“will you stay the night with me? i don’t feel good and you’re so warm.” you plead.

he thinks for a moment. would you freak out if he was in your bed and you don’t remember why, maybe… but you trust him enough to believe why.

“okay, i’ll stay. get into the bathroom and change. i’ll wait for you.” he says, ushering you to the bathroom.

“promise you won’t leave?” you ask.

“i promise.” he pats your head and goes to sit on your bed.

thank god he wore comfortable clothes. you would probably have a harder time believing that nothing happened if he was in his boxers.

a couple minutes go by until you step out of the bathroom. you shyly walk up to him and sit in his lap.

you’re clingy when you’re drunk.

you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his chest.

he laughs lightly and swings his legs onto your bed before pulling the covers over the two of you. you being completely on top of him, curled into a little ball to help settle your stomach.

he runs his fingers through your hair and you kiss his peck in response.

maybe he’ll let dunce face drag you two to a couple more parties.

part 2

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #bakugou katuski x reader

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keresnotceres · 10 months

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Say You’re Mine (Good, Good, Great pt 2)

Ghost x Fem!Reader

[nsfw] cw(s): rdr is being a slut again, jealousy, possessive undertones, SEX, rough sex, oral (m receiving), throatfucking lol, p-in-v sex, ghost getting called ‘big boy,’ unsafe sex oops.

4.7k words In honor of 200+ followers (wtf guys thank u) & by the request of many, I present to you: Good, Good, Great pt2 :) This is just shameless porn with an egregious amount of plot. Enjoy my lovely dovies <3 (Also Ghost has a short refractory period for uh,, plot reasons).

A few months after his jealousy at Myth, Ghost gets sent on leave. When he arrives home at 12 AM on a Friday night, he promptly decides to pay you a little visit at work. You, however, are once again testing his patience (and he doesn’t take particularly kindly to that).

Roughly three months later, you’re working a busy Friday night at Myth, and damn it, you’re making sure that you’re making good money tonight. Flirting was easy; men were easy. Just making them think you were the least bit interested did wonders for your tips. Sure, you didn’t make as much as the girls on stage, but it was pretty damn close to it.

You made your way downstairs after taking a few orders from assorted tables upstairs, going to the servers closet to ring them into the system when the hostess scurried over and told you about a party of 8 at Center Table 3 before skittering on back to the stand to greet another guest or five. After putting your tables’ orders, you began to prepare yourself for the nightmare that this 8-top was about to be.

It was only 10 PM, and you had hope they wouldn’t stick around until closing. As you make your way through the sea of customers on the first floor, you spot the table; even better, you spot the perfect person to flirt-till-you-die with.

He was rather young, maybe 21 or 22, and looked like he would see white if you even smiled at him. He came in with some sort of bachelor party, and you were expecting the worst sort of groom-to-be and his just-as-bad groomsmen. Your target looked the most frightened to be there, like if he said the wrong thing he would be thrown to the curb; which meant he was the perfect man to squeeze some money out of. The men around him would probably cheer him on for getting special attention.

You walk over to the table with a smile etched onto your face, swaying your hips just enough to be noticeable, and put a small bounce into your steps. You stop next to the man at the head of the table and wait for the group to quiet from their unnecessarily in-depth conversation about their favorite actresses.

“I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” you introduce yourself. “Can I get you guys started with a bottle or are you looking for something by the glass?” You look down at the man you’re next to, tilting your head a bit.

He looks up to you, not even bothering to hide the stare he gives your tits. “What beers do you have here?”

You nod a bit, launching into the list. “We have Budweiser, Guinness, Foster’s, Carling—” The man put his hand up to stop you, making some sort of interrupting noise.

“I’ll take a Foster’s,” he says blandly. He gestures to another one of his friends to order, head swiveling back over to the stage as a dancer makes her way on. If you didn’t want to take a glass and shove it up his ass at that moment, the following hours of their presence would definitely make you want to.

You stretch your lips into the kindest customer service smile you can muster and look at the next man. When you get to the last drink of the table, the poor man you were planning on hitting in til’ he couldn’t see straight, you step closer.

“And what can I get you?” You make your voice just a little bit sweeter and lean down a bit.

His eyes dart from your face to your breasts, then dart back up. “A whiskey sour,” he blurts out, tacking on a quiet ‘please’ as a second thought.

“Of course,” you smile at him, then look up to the rest of the group. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.” You turn away, and as you’re walking towards the servers closet, you can hear some cheers and a catcall from the table.

Once you’re in the server's closet, you drop the painfully plastic smile and fish a coworker’s Elfbar from the pile of check books and pens on the table below the kiosk. As you enter drink after drink, you take a hit from the vape, letting the nicotine take the place of smacking your head against the wall repeatedly.

You send the final drink, a fucking whiskey sour of all things, and groan. Another bottle girl comes speeding into the server’s closet, a sour look on her face.

“What’s it today, Mel?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you lean against one of the walls.

Mel looks at you disgruntled, like she was about to lose her shit. “My table just tried to order five espresso martinis and then got mad at me when I said we couldn’t do them tonight.” She taps a few buttons of the kiosk rather aggressively. “Then proceeded to ask for an extra strong vodka cran, but to only be charged for a single.”

Mel taps on the mixed drink button, then on the vodka button, then cranberry, then double. “Fuck her,” she hisses, taking the Elfbar right out of your hands.

It’s only after she takes two hits from it that she asks whose it is. You don’t know either.

The night continues like that, with Mel being perpetually pissed off at a table and you staving off the urge to bash your skull in with a vaguely blueberry smelling vape.

When the clock hits midnight, you don’t have the Cinderella moment that some part of you wishes you could have. You don’t get to rush home, fall asleep, then wake up to your prince charming searching for you. No, of course you don’t.

Instead, you get the worst hit from someone’s cart that leaves you fighting for your life and, much worse, the nightmare bachelor table waving you down.

“What can I help you guys with?” You look around the table, waiting for someone to speak up.

One of them takes one for the team, finally. “We wanted to get a bottle of something, but Nick here decided to wave you down before we figured out what to get.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the man you decided to target.

So your victim's name is Nick, huh?

You put a hand to your mouth and force out a laugh; a man likes it when you laugh at things he says. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Your eyes flicker to Nick, meeting his for a fleeting second.

It was almost too easy.

You smirk at him, putting on your best charm. “Since you gave me the false alarm, how ‘bout you buy me a drink?” A few of the guys at the table chuckle, as expected. You take the opportunity to walk up to him, getting closer.

You put your hand on the back of his chair, leaning your body weight into it, your fingers facing him. Nick looks up at you like a girl looking up at some ugly guy she’s giving a blowjob to, and it takes everything in you to give him a simple, sultry smile in response instead of a fit of laughter.

You look over to the groom-to-be, waiting for him to decide on the table’s bottle. And then you see a familiar jacket in the corner of your eyes, with a familiar build and a familiar surgical mask covering half of a very familiar face.

God damn, Simon Riley might just be everything you needed tonight.

Once again, he didn’t even bother to call to tell you he was coming home. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though. The rational part of your brain blue-screens, leaving only the work-oriented brain and the stupid slut brain left. And the work-oriented part of your brain wants to make good money, so that’s exactly what you’re going to continue doing.

There’s something about fucking with Simon that thrills you. Maybe it’s the fact you know you’ll get something good out of it, or maybe you’re just a little messed up in the head.

You look away from Simon and swivel your head back down to the poor soul you’ve chosen to pay off your car insurance. Your hand shifts so that your fingertips rest gingerly on Nick’s shoulder, and boy does it do wonders.

His look of ‘blowjob innocence’ morphs into ‘holy shit a woman is interested in me’ and some of his friends croon oohs, another whistles. You peel your eyes away from Nick and look to the groom, “have you decided on a bottle?”

He looks over at you from the bottle menu with unfocused eyes. “We’ll do, uh, a bottle of Jameson and,” he squinted back at the menu, then looked at a friend. “What vodka did you want?”

The friend looks up from his lap, his illuminated face darkening. “Oh,” he leans over to look at the menu, then looks at you. Or, rather, he looks at your tits. “Grey Goose.” You fight the urge to raise your eyebrows and question him, but manage to smile politely and nod.

“I’ll bring those right down for you boys.” As you leave the table, you let your fingers trace Nick’s shoulder lightly. Your gaze slowly finds Simon when you turn away, and he simply stares at you, his usual bourbon nestled in a hand.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you skitter over to Simon to greet him.

“Hi there,” you croon, “what’s a big boy like you doin’ here?” Simon gives no hint at a change in attitude, you don’t even see a single hint that he’s smiling under the mask. You pout at him, “at least say hi.”

His eyes are unusually steely, like they had been months ago during his surprise visit. “Stop touching him.”

Your faux pout melts into a grin, “jealous?” You ask, stepping forward. “Again?”

He looks away from you, eyes flicking to the dramatic scene of some random movie playing on one of the bar TVs. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean into him, breasts pressing up against his bicep. “Come on, big boy,” you goad, “no need to act nonchalant.”

He lifts his arm to push you off, not even bothering to look at you. “You heard me,” he says, “don’t touch him again.” His words only push you to question him further, if anything, they make you want to get more handsy with — what was his name? Nate?

“Or what?” You press, cocking your head to the side to catch his eyes again. “You gonna kill him?” Simon’s eyes flit to you, flashing with some sort of challenge.

His eyes bore into yours, “maybe.” His gaze moves away from you again and his free hand slips up to pull down the surgical mask and take a sip of bourbon.

His lackluster response leaves you itching for more. You huff at him and slink away to the server’s closet to put the two bottles on the bachelor party’s tab. You trudge up the stairs to the second floor, eyes sweeping over the chattering people at tables.

You grab the two requested bottles from the upstairs bar before visiting a few of your tables on the second floor, checking in with a sweet smile before heading back down to the bachelor party. You give your poor cheeks a rest as you bounce down the stairs, your face falling into a bored resting face before it stretches right back into that damn customer service smile that you managed to perfect over the years.

You pass by Simon on your way back to the bachelor party, his eyes give you a brief warning before they flick back to the TV screen. It only makes you want to make him mad.

After you’ve set the bottles on the table and brought over new glasses (including a few shot glasses) for their liquor, you go right back to flirting with whatever-his-name-is. Your hand rests fully on his shoulder as you chat with the table, paying special attention to Nigel (or was it Nico?).

You can practically feel Simon’s eyes burning a hole through you as you do so, and it makes you wonder just how much he really cared about this little stint of yours. Nevertheless, you let your victim of the night continue to think he’s special, you even get roped into feeding him a shot of the Grey Goose.

Nick (you were reminded of his name by one of his friends goading him into taking shots) starts to get more handsy with you, to which you kick it up a notch. As you gently hold the shot glass up to his lips, his hands snake up and rest on your hips, keeping you in place as his friends count down until he has to take the shot.

You lean forward with the shot glass after someone shouts ‘zero,’ basically shoving your tits into his face as he took his shot of top-shelf vodka. You congratulate his semi-decent shot taking skills in an effort to make yourself seem like you really like him.

“Good job,” you purr, hand raising to stroke his hair once before falling back to your side. “Took that so well.” When you step away, the man looks like he’s in a stupor.

You turn to look at Simon with a cheeky smile engraved on your lips, only to receive a very pointed glare.

When the bachelor party finally leaves at around 1:30 AM, after what feels like for-fucking-ever, you wander over to the table to pick up the check. Your flirting really paid off.

A tip of £200 on a bill of roughly £600 — almost a 35% tip. Making money off of men was ridiculously easy. Even better, you finally get to go the fuck home! You silently thank your manager for not giving you the closing shift and get your shit before anyone can pester you to stay longer.

Simon’s waiting for you at the door, staring straight through you as you make your way to him with your work bag slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to speak, and you’re frankly a bit too burnt out to comment on it. You pass him your car keys, unwilling to drive after your nightmare shift.

The drive home is quiet, not even the cheesy radio music breaks the silence despite the volume being on level 30.

As soon as he pulls into your parking space of the building lot, he turns the car off and flings your keys back over to you. You amble into the building,

Simon’s hands are on your waist before you can even put your keys down, you barely register that the door shuts behind the two of you as his fingers dig into your hips.

You snicker at him, “you weren't jealous, huh?” Simon doesn’t respond verbally, just hoists you into the air and puts you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.

His reaction is nothing he hasn’t done before, but there’s a heat in your abdomen that tells you that you’re going to call out of work tomorrow. Well, that, and the fact that Simon’s had a hard on for the entirety of the drive home and you really wanted to fix that problem for him. Bottom line is, you’re horny, he’s horny, it’s going to be a long fucking night.

It’s what you needed after around 7 months without being stretched out by Simon. It’s what he needed after watching you get touchy with someone who wasn’t him. If you didn’t end up sprawled out on Simon’s bed, incoherently moaning words as he fucked you dumb in 30 minutes, you were both going to have an issue.

As expected, when he got to the top of the stairs, he turned right instead of left, going into his room instead of yours. His room was mostly untouched, the comforter a little crumpled from the time you passed out on it after taking one too many blinkers a few weeks ago (you’ve found you really like being in his room when you aren’t sober).

He shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed on your back, further disheveling the dark gray comforter. You push yourself up onto your elbows, encouraged by the rustling of Simon’s belt coming undone.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you, “on your knees.” You make an absentminded noise in response and shuffle to the end of the bed, sliding off with relative ease. He tells you to do something else, but you’re too absorbed in your own world to hear him.

Simon walks towards you, hand resting atop your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sits down on the edge of the bed in front of you. “Not fuckin’ listening to me anymore, huh?” His grip on your hair tightens and he moves your head back and forth.

“You’ll fix that tonight, yeah?” He eyes you like a man starved, you can’t find the words to speak, nor can you move your head under the grip he has on your hair. He seems to take your silence as a ‘yes.’

Your eyes roam to his torso, to which part of you is disappointed by the presence of his shirt. Then, you look further down to the very obvious tent in his briefs. Your head goes to move closer on instinct, but Simon holds it back.

You struggle against his hold for a few seconds before sighing and giving up, looking up at him with a frown. He looks down at you, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

“You need to learn patience,” he grumbles, pushing your head to the side and retracting his hand to move the waistband of his underwear.

Your head returns to its original position almost immediately, anticipation coursing through your body. You’re basically salivating at the thought of having Simon down your throat.

In all honesty, Simon should be grateful you were taught manners at a young age, because otherwise you would’ve slapped his hand away the second his head popped out of the dark fabric and taken him all for yourself.

In substitute, you shuffle closer to him, knees scratching against the carpet.

Simon pulls his cock out, finally, and gestures for you to have your way. You pounce on the opportunity, hands flying up from your sides. One settles on his thigh as a support as the other slips down, thumb pressing against the tip. You can feel Simon jerk under you from the contact, and it only makes you dart forward and press your closed lips to the side of his cock.

You part your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, dragging it upwards until you reach the head again. You let your mouth part further and take him in slowly, teasingly.

Simon’s hand grips your hair, pushing your head further down on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat as you take him in your mouth and his fingers twitch in your hair.

He bucks his hips up, watching as you take all of him in diligently without even so much as gagging. He doesn’t expect anything less from you. He keeps an even pace until the need gets to him, until the haze ends and he remembers why he has you on your knees; why he’s not supposed to be nice and even.

He picks up his pace, rutting into your mouth quicker than you can take, leaving you gagging on his cock as he holds your head in place. Your moans turn staccato, the sound of Simon’s balls slapping against your chin falls behind your stifled gagging. It’s a rhythmic disaster, but fuck, it’s music to his ears.

At some point, he stops thrusting into your mouth and simply pistons your head up and down his cock with a hand. You’re nothing but a drooling mess, looking up at Simon’s face through your eyelashes, blinking through tears. He appears to be the polar opposite of you. His eyes are calm and his lips are settled into a thin line; the only thing that lets you know he’s relishing in this is the twitching of his cock down your throat and the low groans he lets out occasionally.

That is, until his jaw sets and his grip on your hair gets tighter. His other hand takes a fistful of your hair as well and holds your head in place again, his hips thrusting forwards and retracting faster than you can even react to. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he ruthlessly ruts into you. You’ve given up on trying to breathe.

Simon’s mouth opens slightly, a shuddered breath tumbles out and your lips quirk up ever so slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, dull fingernails scratching your scalp in a mind-numblingly good way. He bucks into you harshly, then again, and a groan feathered by pants fills the air as cum drips down your throat.

His cock is heavy on your tongue as he pulls out and you’re quick to dart back to it and lick small beads of cum off head. His torso spasms at the action and his hands yank you back by the hair. You whine, trying to wriggle loose of the iron grip the man has on you, but stop once he lets go.

Through labored breathing, he tugs you off of your knees and pulls you up to him. He falls back onto the bed, taking you down with him. You quite enjoy straddling over him, breasts dangling below you as your hands press into the mattress on either side of his head.

You give him a stupid smile, “out of breath, big boy?”

He scoffs at you, the only evidence that he just came in your mouth is his lack of a boner. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, love.” The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies to your stomach, (rather, your ovaries). His hands come out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back, suspending you in the air over him. “Don’t think I forgot what you like,” he muses, “what a slut.”

His eyes gloss over you, when he gets to your skirt and fishnet tights, he frowns. “Told you to take ‘em off,” he mutters, moving so that both of your wrists are held in just one of his hands. It’s both a blessing and a curse that he’s built like a tank. His free hand snakes down and tugs on the edge of your skirt, making you splutter out a few words of warning.

“Let me undo it,” you plead, “you’ll break it.” He looks at you unimpressed as you try to get him to not ruin your favorite skirt. He relents, miraculously, and maneuvers you to straddle over his thighs. You don't bother trying to take your time as you undo the inner clasp of your skirt before unzipping it. Your right hand grips his as you shift your weight onto your right knee while the left hand pulls the skirt off of you, then vice versa.

Simon’s patience runs thin when it comes to your fishnets, and pushes you down onto his chest by the shoulders. With your ass in the air, he simply rips the fabric until he’s satisfied. Now you’re even more horny, but you also have a giant hole in the crotch area of your only pair of fishnets.

He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and an appreciative noise. “Better.” His fingers brush over your underwear, letting out a quiet laugh at the damp fabric. Your hips jerk against the ginger touches from his hands, making him pull his hand away.

A whine breaks through your throat, your lips pulled down into a pout. His eyes flick to yours, the look sending shivers of ecstacy down your spine.

“You don’t deserve that,” he murmurs. “Come on, you know the rules.”

You give him a pleading look, eyes straining to see his from your face-down ass-up position. “Please?” You know it won’t work, his resolve is entirely too strong to be folded by the likes of your begging.

You get your answer as he grabs you by the waist and tosses you to the side. Faster than you can even make a remark at, he’s looming over you, hips trapped between his knees, dog tags dangling down.

“Don’t try to beg,” he chastises, voice low. A hand moves your soaked underwear to the side and he gently presses his tip against your pussy. It’s nothing but a tease, but it has you squirming for more, and there’s a vicious little grin on Simon’s face that sparks something in you.

He doesn’t bother to warm you up, and, really, you would’ve been frustrated by having his fingers stretching you out rather than his dick. Is that a safe sexual practice? No; but right now, you didn’t care about that, you just wanted to get dicked down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing (in reality, likely just about five minutes), Simon finally pushes the tip of his cock into you. He pauses, then slowly pushes inch after inch into you until he’s balls deep in you and you’re damn near rolling your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling of him.

It had been too fucking long since you felt him inside you, since he stretched your insides to fit his cock so perfectly that he mumbles compliments into your ears when he feels like being nice.

He stays buried inside your pussy and looks you in the eye, another challenge. “You wouldn’t let him do this, would you?” He asks, arms lifting off of your body to cross over his chest. “No,” he responds for you, his hands darting back down to grab your waist. “You’re mine.”

And, oh, that admission sends waves of giddy excitement through your body.

“And I’ll prove it.” It’s a rather ominous statement, but he doesn’t even give you the time to register that before he pulls out from you and slams right back in. Then again. Then again, and again, and again until a rough, even pace is set.

Even, however, is not what you wanted. You wanted rough, fast. You could mumble for him to go faster all you wanted, but Simon wouldn’t budge. If he wanted to, he could go as slow as he possibly could just to keep you frustrated.

But even Simon is only human, and he can’t resist the urge to rut into you with reckless abandon.

His hips jolt against yours, a muttered expletive turns into a pant of ‘fuck’ and barely contained groans as Simon all but slams into you. The sound of skin hitting skin accompanies the noises falling out of your mouth, Simon’s hushed tones, and the bed frames occasional creak to create a melody of pure lust.

You find yourself unable to hold yourself together any longer, thighs twitching and abdomen getting tighter as Simon continues to pound into you like there’s no tomorrow (would it technically be ‘no today?’ It is 2 in the morning, after all). You can’t even bring yourself to form the words before you’re cumming on Simon’s cock while it’s thrusting in and out of you.

A whine builds in the back of your throat, your legs tighten around Simon’s waist, trying to pull him closer into you as the heat builds in your abdomen. One of his hands lifts from off of your waist and runs through your hair.

“I can tell,” he manages to get out through almost undetectable grunts. “You’re barely hanging on, huh?” He’s taunting you. “Go on,” he mutters, shifting just enough for him to rub against you in an entirely new angle.

You make a collection of noises, a moan that devolves into a whimper, and eventually squeaks as Simon continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he eventually starts pouding into erratically, an uneven pace that only gets more and more mind-numbing until he’s pulled out of you and you can feel your lower stomach be painted with his own orgasm.

It’s just seconds later that he leans his head down and presses his forehead to your. A simple, but oh so damning gesture of intimacy. His breath puffs against your face, warm and quick, but you can’t help but lean into the touch.

🍒: @xaestheticalien @clear-your-mind-and-dream @stunkbiggu @abbiesxox @nijiru @lanu-la

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley fanfic #simon riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut

735 notes · View notes

dreamingofep · 3 months

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A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person.

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life.

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it.

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say.

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing.

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage.

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today.

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much.

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage.

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot.

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage.

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand.

Click.

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors.

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted.

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head.

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out.

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight.

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way.

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes.

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything.

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch.

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling.

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him.

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you.

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you.

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good.

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse.

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand.

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you.

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis fluff

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127angelica · 10 months

Text

𝐋 . 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 — ❝ love to some point. ❞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | an unexpected and untimely meeting with you, his ex-lover, on his birthday.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,781 words

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | happy birthday to the best mark to exist. a short and bittersweet happy birthday fic for him, because i love bittersweet.

Mark had broke up with you a little over three months ago, which was why he wanted to slap himself when he called out to you. He recognized your familiar frame, and to his surprise you were staring at his birthday advertisement. And maybe it was out of habit:

“Hey,” Mark called out, and immediately regretted it because he had no idea what to do next.

You were smiling, happy to see that Mark was receiving love even despite ending yours. It wasn’t Mark’s fault it all ended. Everything good had one, and deep down you knew that you and him were never meant for forever. So it made no sense to hate him, you didn’t want to be the minority of the world anyway. You would continue to support him, silently in the background. He deserved that kind of thing even though he broke your heart.

Your smile faltered the slightest bit, recognizing that voice from anywhere. Honestly, you’re surprised he even said anything because this was public, out in the open for anyone to see. Mark wasn’t a bitter guy, but really who wanted to see their ex on their birthday?

“Hi,” You turned to smile at him and look back at the advertisement as he stood next to you with his hands tucked in his jean pockets.

You could tell he didn’t know what to say, he was awkward even. He stood tall, but awkwardly small like he didn’t want to take up anymore space that he already was. Compacting himself by tucking his arms in and tensing his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, happy and shocked to see you smiling at the sight of him.

He didn’t know that you would take the break up so well, but he supposed that he wouldn’t know what to do if you were crying or angry at him. He was glad to see you doing well. You looked healthy, and you seemed happy even.

“I just got off work,” You kept your eyes on the advertisement rather than the real thing right in front of you.

“Oh.”

Mark watched as you scanned every detail of the advertisement his fans paid for that he hadn’t even glanced at because you were there. Gorgeously and beautifully, standing there in front of it. He wished that he could read your mind, his heart racing because he just didn’t know what was happening. Why were you smiling at it, but not him? He was right there. You turned and he thought you must have felt his burning gaze at your temple.

“Happy birthday.”

“What?” Mark blurted and blinked.

“It’s your birthday,” You laughed, and turned to the advertisement.

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded, finally looking at it but not for long because he wanted to savor this moment of you still looking at his face though it wasn’t directly at him. “It is my birthday.”

You started to read the advertisement, but Mark zoned out onto your glowing face. The way you smiled as you talked was so captivating, and it was almost like you two were back together or something. You always talked like that around him and he assumed it would change once you two were no longer together. You reminded him too much of the past, and you didn’t seem any different from when you were his. He began to wonder if he was dreaming.

“How have you been?” Mark once again blurted.

“Good,” You nodded, finally looking at him long enough for him to feel more relieved. “You?”

“Okay,” He thought that was the best answer considering he had just gone through a breakup.

“You look good,” You pointed to the advertisement. “I saw you on stage too, the other day. You did great.”

“You saw?” Mark rubbed his chin and he finally started to shyly smile.

“Of course!” You said it like it was obvious. “You’re famous.”

The banter continued for a few more fleeting minutes and Mark wondered how you could act so normally. This wasn’t how exes acted, did they? He supposed that you two were never the type to hate each other after simply breaking up anyway.

“Are you okay?” Mark began to ask weird questions.

“Yeah, why?” You had a perplexed look on your face.

“I mean,” He felt that it was awkward to ask because you were being so friendly. “We broke up, and I just wanted to know if you’re okay. Like you’re not sad or anything.”

You laughed at that, reaching out to pat his arm. Mark was always that kind of person to worry about others, to make sure they were okay and lifting their spirits up if they were down. Even on his own birthday where he should be happy all day long without a care in the world. It was something you loved about Mark.

“It’s your birthday! Why would you worry about that?” Suddenly you felt bad for appearing even if you didn’t intend to be in the same place at the same time, so you put on a more serious face. “I’m sorry for appearing out of the blue like this. I really didn’t mean to bump into you, I just… I was happy to see you receiving birthday wishes and love from everyone around the world. I wanted to put my share in by seeing it and I don’t know… sending a telepathic message I guess.”

“No! It was good seeing you,” Mark reached for your hand to comfort you.

It surprised him as much as calling for you did, but you didn’t pull your hand away and that made him feel better about his habitual movements. He reached his other hand around to enclose your hand. His eyes were sincere and gleaming. You didn’t know what exactly to feel, knowing that you two had shared a great love, but it was also over and done with. Was it so strange to be seeing each other like this? Especially because it was your first time talking since the break up.

“I’m… glad that you decided to stop and look at these,” Mark laughed awkwardly, tugging your hand gently. “I’m really thankful for you. And glad you don’t hate me.”

“There’s nothing to hate,” You teased, turning back to the advertisement. “Things don’t always work out, we both know that. I’m just happy that we got to love and that it was you. You’re amazing, and I wouldn’t change anything that has happened between us. We’re making good decisions, so don’t be so doubtful.”

“Ah,” Mark sighed, and his shoulders finally sunk, now only using one hand to warmly hold yours. “You always know what to say, Y/n.”

At that you just laughed, and Mark laughed with you. You supposed that you did, but you only ever said what you wanted Mark to hear, your true genuine feelings.

“I’m sorry we had to break up,” He ruined the perfect silence, but it was something he had to say too. “I really loved you, and I always thought it would be us in the end.”

“Don’t be sorry,” You nodded, letting his hand go, and he knew you were leaving soon. “I loved you too. Still do actually, I’ll forever be a Mark Lee fan now that I know so much about you. It’s still us in the end, just not like how it used to be.”

It left a bittersweet taste in Mark’s mouth and now he felt like he would be missing you forever with the way you were talking. He let out a sigh and smiled nonetheless. He tucked his hands in his pockets to replace the warmth that your hands provided. It was summer, and nights were humid and hot, but still he would have liked to feel your warmth.

“Yeah, I know,” Mark nodded, watching your every move.

“Don’t be so sad, birthday boy,” You reached out to fix his fringe so you could see his eyes. “Eat cake, drink, and do whatever you want. I better get going.”

“Wait,” Mark was desperate to get something from you for the last time, not wanting to let you go just yet. “Can I—Can we kiss for the last time?”

He watched your eyes widen a bit and freeze for a second to let what he said sink in. His heart raced a bit, nervous to hear you speak and he wondered just how desperate he was to be in your company to ask for something like that. He was just a fool. He added, so you could think about it a little more, “For my birthday.”

Without saying anything, you smiled and chuckled at his request after thinking it over a little bit. For the last time, Mark was asking you for a kiss, and on his birthday, how could you say no?

You brought your hands to his cheeks, softly running the pads of your thumbs across his skin, feeling the texture and warmth radiate from him as he let a quiet breath out to sink into your touch. You wondered if he had been longing for this, if you would be fueling his frustration with the breakup, but you wanted to make him happy. Give him a final gift before you leave.

You leaned in close, tilting your head a little so your noses wouldn’t bump. Mark moved his hands to your waist, awaiting the sweet kiss that was planted on the plumpness of his lips. It was short and sweet, but Mark enjoyed it thoroughly. Slowing the moment down in his head to savor it. It was a feeling he knew all too well and missed. For the last time, he got to experience it and for a while, he would long for it, but over time he would learn to live without it. He would be just fine.

“Happy birthday, Mark,” You said once more as you pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Mark looked through his eyelashes at you, noting how close you two were before he removed his hands and yours retracted too. “Yeah, of course.”

With that, you turned on your heel and waved once more before heading out on your way home. Mark watched your figure fade into the distance as he got the feeling of your lips lingering on his. He pursed them, wondering if it would keep your kiss permanently on his lips.

“Thank you!” He yelled out, catching your attention.

“Of course,” You shouted back. “I love you!”

He smiled at the words, thinking it was perhaps a bittersweet birthday gift from you because that was as good as it gets with an ex.

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theoreticslut · 2 years

Text

「 your kiss is on my list 」

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: a little game of truth or dare leads to lots of shock, a not jealous eddie, and your first kiss.

requested: no

word count: 2.7k

warnings: alcohol use/mentions of being drunk, slight playboy steve (early s1 personality), jealousy, pet names (honey, angel, & princess), bed sharing, fluff

a/n: if you don’t know by now, i love eddie munson so fucking much. i’m literally getting ideas for him daily. i hope you like this & if you’ve got an idea you’d like to see written, feel free to send it to me! Xx

title insp. from kiss on my list by daryl hall & john oates

“Oh my god!”

“Gross!”

“You’re a pig, Harrington.” Robin’s voice cuts through the rest of yours as he and Eddie laugh at the confession.

Needing time and friendships away from the little group of 15-year olds you’ve all somehow adopted, the five of you - Steve, Nancy, Robin, Eddie, and yourself - have started having weekly get-togethers. Sometimes you’ll all sit around and watch movies as you munch on junk food, and other times you’ll have a makeshift house party/game night like tonight.

“You asked for the truth!” Steve laughs, taking a swig of his beer as an amused smile settles on his face.

“You didn’t need to be so detailed. We’re not drunk enough for that yet.” You groan, trying to clear the mental image your brain cruelly created.

“That’s not my fault.”

“You’re right. It’s not your fault that you’re a complete lightweight.”

“Hey! Not a lightweight.” He defends, slightly pouting as he points at you.

“Yeah, he’s not a lightweight, honey. You just don’t drink enough.” Eddie pipes in, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he stands behind you, having gotten up to get himself another drink.

“Are you really going to make me the villain here, Eds? Just because I’m not a borderline alcoholic like the rest of you?”

At your cocked brow, all Eddie can do is smile, chuckling as he shakes his head, pulling you against his chest as you sit on a stool at the counter jutting out into his living room.

After the events of spring break, the two of you have become quick friends, having spent a good majority of the six months that have passed together. The rest of the group - especially the younger kids - love to tease the two of you for how quick you became “friends” - as they like to put it.

You don’t mind though. You really enjoy having Eddie around, and it’s not like you haven’t had little thoughts of him from time to time. It’s just that you’re friends, and you’re perfectly fine with that.

“Of course not. I’m just trying to get you to drink more, princess.” He smirks as you roll your eyes at him.

“Get me a drink and maybe I will.” You challenge, meeting his eyes as you do.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get back to pl-aying the game!” Robin almost whines, hiccuping as she does so.

“Steeeeve, you get to ask someone.” She giggles, definitely drunk at this point in the night.

“Alright. Y/n, truth or dare?” Steve questions, and you pretend to think about it for a moment.

“Hmm, I guess I’ll go truth.”

“What was your first kiss like?”

At the question, you can feel Eddie turn his attention to you, apparently being curious of the question himself as he hands you a drink.

“Gonna have to give me another question, Harrington. I don’t have an answer for that one.” You chuckle airily, popping the tab open on the can before taking a sip.

“You don’t have an answer? How come?”

“Have you not had your first kiss?!” Nancy gasps, drawing a hand to her mouth as she watches you.

At her question you feel everyone look at you as a silence settles over the room, waiting for an answer as you sip on the beer Eddie brought you.

“Why do you all look so shocked?”

“Because you’re like…you. How have you never been kissed?” Steve questions, completely mind blown at the knowledge.

“Because I haven’t….?” You question, not sure what other response there is.

Looking around at everyone, you find that they’re all still in stages of shock or confusion.

“I volunteer to be your first.” Steve comments, filter gone with even the tiniest bit of alcohol.

“Like hell you will.” Eddie snaps, glaring at the jock.

“Why not? I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”

“He is.” Nancy mumbles, giggling in her drunkenness.

“See?” The prior ‘king’ points out, a slight air of smugness to him as Eddie grinds his teeth.

“Because her first kiss should be with someone she actually likes, Harrington.” Eddie scoffs.

“But she likes me. Don’t you like me, y/n?”

“Someone as more than a friend, asshole.”

“If she’s comfortable with me, though, wouldn’t that be more important than ki-“ Steve starts to question before Eddie cuts him off, the two arguing about the topic as if you weren’t even there.

“Shut the fuck up or i’ll make you shut up. She’s not going to kiss you.”

As Eddie talks, you feel him step closer to you, as if trying to protect you.

“What’s it to you anywa-wait, are you jealous?” Steve asks, mouth agape as he scoffs humorously.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you’re not, bud.”

“I’m not. I just don’t think she should be kissing you.” Eddie states.

“Besides, I don’t think Nancy would appreciate your lips on someone else’s.”

As the two boys argue with each other, you look to Nancy and Robin, who just seem amused.

If anyone had asked you four hours earlier how a game of truth or dare would turn into a discussion of who your first kiss should be, you’d have no answer, having thought it impossible. Sitting here, though, you realize how absolutely nothing is impossible for this little group.

“Hey, buttheads! The only one who has any say in who y/n’s first kiss will be is y/n. Yeah?” Robin questions, cutting the two guys off from their argument.

“I would hope so.” You retort, looking up at Eddie as he hovers over your shoulder, still glaring at Steve as he grinds his teeth.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m serious though; I’ll happily be your first kiss if you want me to be.” Steve states, sitting back on the couch as Eddie lets out a tense breath.

“I’ll let you know if that day ever comes.”

He nods, taking a big gulp of his beer, finishing the can as Eddie turns his attention to you.

“Do you want another beer?”

“Nah, I’m alright, Eds. I’ve still got some.” You smile, shaking your can to show it’s still about halfway full.

“Alright.” He mumbles, smiling lightly as he releases a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he stands to the side of you.

~.~

“Bye guys! I’ll see you later. Be safe!” You call, waving to your three friends as they climb into Steve’s car, leaving you and Eddie to yourselves in his trailer.

Watching them drive away, you turn to close the door but stumble over your feet.

“Careful, honey.” Eddie states as you giggle, righting yourself up again and closing the door.

“I’m good, Eds. Promise.”

“You’re not drunk are you? We were up all night the last time you got drunk.” He questions, hoping you’re only tipsy.

Even though he knows he’d stay up with you all night again, listening to you ramble about whatever crosses your mind, giggling as you slur your thoughts to him, he’d much rather get some sleep.

“Not drunk. Just tipsy and tired, Eds.”

“Alright, angel, if you say so. Let’s get to bed, yeah?”

He watches as you nod, smiling softly before you shuffle across the room to him. Chuckling lightly, he slings an arm around your waist to help guide you to the bedroom where you’ve stayed plenty of times before.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“You got a shirt I could borrow? I didn’t think to bring pjs.” You pout, looking over to him with sad eyes.

“Course I do, princess.” He chuckles, digging through his dresser to find a clean shirt. He’s definitely got to do laundry this weekend.

“Here you are, honey.”

As you turn to him, he tosses you a black tee shirt, some metal band logo on the front of it. It’s worn, the band’s logo faded and crinkled in spots, but you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything softer.

“Thanks, Eds. Be right back.” You lazily smile, making your way over to the small bathroom.

While you’re gone, Eddie changes into pajamas of his own - the only time he wears them. Typically he’d just sleep in his boxers, possibly with a tee on, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Hence why he found himself digging out the few pairs of cotton bottoms he had stuffed in one of the bottom drawers of his dresser the first night you had stayed over.

You’re also the reason he’s been washing his sheets more often, not wanting you to be sleeping on a dirty bed. He may have only known you a handful of months, but he’s almost completely changed his habits at home on the chance that you’d be over.

He’s tidying up his bed as you come back in from the bathroom, his shirt hanging on your frame, just long enough to cover you. He can’t help but notice how much of your thighs are on show though, gulping lightly as he tries not to stare.

You’ve never been anything but beautiful in his eyes, even from the first time he set eyes on you back in the boathouse, wild with fear as he held a broken bottle to Steve’s neck. In all honesty, half the reason Dustin was able to talk him down was because he was so focused on you, wanting to know who you were and why you were here, looking for him of all people.

You’re the reason he dove into the lake back when all five of you ended up in the upside down. You had been friends with Nancy before all of this came about, and as soon as she dove in after Steve, you were diving in after her to make sure she wasn’t doing anything more stupid than diving into murky waters to save her ex - whom she still has feelings for - as he was being pulled under.

Although you had called him stupid for following all of you into the water, he had done so for the same reasons, having wanted to make sure you were safe. Not that he needed to worry, though, as he found out when you fearlessly fought demobats off from the five of you.

If Steve thought he’d get your first kiss, he’s dead wrong. Why would he get your first kiss when he’s always been too focused on Nancy. Eddie’s the one who’s always had eyes for you.

“Eds, you ready for bed?” You question, pulling him from his thoughts where he realizes you’ve been waiting for him.

“Yeah. Sorry…zoned out.”

“I noticed.” You giggle, crawling into the bed as he gets himself settled.

As you situate yourself into the bed beside him, a silence falls between the two of you where his mind continues to race.

“You’ve really never kissed anyone before?” He questions, still not believing it.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not. It’s just, surprising. Like Steve said, you’re…you.”

“What does that even mean?” You chuckle, looking over to him with lightly furrowed brows.

“You’re pretty. Like really pretty, and you’re so fucking cool. You’re kind, and warm, and so good with the younger kids, but you also kick ass. You’re just…amazing.”

“But people like Steve just see that you’re pretty and find that good enough.” Eddie huffs, jaw setting as he juts his lip out.

If you weren’t trying to calm him down, you’d find his angry little pout adorable, but you can’t focus on that right now.

“Hey - look at me.” You coax, turning onto your side to face him.

“Why are you all upset, Eds?”

“Because people like Steve shouldn’t be your first kiss. He just wants to kiss you, and that’s not right. You deserve to have your first kiss with someone who actually likes you, you know?”

“That so?”

“Yeah. I mean, at this point you shouldn’t just go for anyone. Go for someone that’s going to want more than just a kiss.”

“It's cute when you’re jealous, Eddie.” You smile, loving how he stutters and pouts at your words.

“I-I’m not jealous. You can kiss whoever you want.”

“If you say so…you have nothing to worry about, though, Eds. I won’t be kissing Steve anytime soon.”

“If I were to kiss someone, it’d be you.” You state, smiling to yourself as he nods, sighing in relief at your first statement as he’s a little behind. You can see his brain pause as your words slowly sink in.

By the time he’s turning his attention to you, though, you’re already turned away from him.

“Say that again?”

“If I were to kiss someone, it’d be you, dumbass.”

“Are you saying-“

“That I like you? Kind of.” You chuckle, glancing at him over your shoulder as his brain works through your words.

When they all finally process, all he does I stare at you in shock, with a little bit of confusion thrown in. You like him? Like actually like him? And you want to kiss him?

“Wh-what does this-?” He questions, wondering what this means and where things are going right now.

“I think you should kiss me. If you like me, that is. If you don’t then it’s-oh!” You half gasp, half moan as his lips find yours.

Registering the fact that he’s kissing you, you find yourself relaxing into the mattress, letting your lips follow his.

“You talk too much sometimes.” He mumbles, barely a centimeter of space between your lips.

“No more than you do.”

“At least I’ve never told you to kiss me and then kept talking as if you wouldn’t. Just tell me to kiss you and shut up so I can.”

“Kiss me again then, but don’t stop.” You challenge, just wanting to feel his lips on yours.

Upon first meeting Eddie, you can’t say you were immediately enamored by him. You more so just felt sorry for him for everything that had happened, knowing how terrifying your first experience with the upside down shit is.

As you and the group helped him though, talking to him as he tagged along, you found yourself being amazed by him. Between the way he would joke around, the way he looked out for the young boys, the way he fought even though he was terrified, and the way he cared for you even though he’d only just met you, you found yourself seeing him in a whole new light. One that slowly had you falling in love.

It wasn’t until after the fact, though, when the two of you started hanging out frequently that you truly fell for him. You got to see all the different sides of him from how passionate he was about Dungeons and Dragons to how peaceful he got when playing his guitar, even to how much he truly was a teddy bear by nature.

He was everything you ever wanted in a partner, and it was even better that he was insanely attractive with his wild hair and big, chocolate-y eyes. How could you not end up falling for him?

“Your lips are so soft, honey.” Eddie murmurs, forehead resting on yours as he smiles against your lips, eyes closed.

“I think yours are softer.” You smile, running your thumb over his cheek as you look up at him.

“Not in the slightest.”

At his chuckle, you can feel your heart race as a soft smile finds a place on your lips. It takes a moment longer before he pulls away from you just enough to look over your face, admiring each and every feature.

“You know, I think I just might love you.” He comments, watching your smile deepen as you shy away from his words.

“I think I just might love you, too, Eds.”

With your admission, a smile grows on his face before he’s leaning back down to you, pressing his lips to yours in a needy - yet loving - kiss. There’s nothing that could make the two of you happier right now when you’re curled up together, lips molding with each other’s as you let every unspoken admiration leave your body wordlessly.

Every kiss only solidifies the silent admission that you are his and he is yours, and nothing could possibly be better than that.

-------------------------------------------------

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